Unexpected Relations: Convergence
by The rational kiwi
Summary: Percy hadn't expected to have family outside of his freaky godly relatives. Harry hadn't expected to have family that accepted him for who and what he was. They were both wrong. Also, there is a murderer on the run.
1. Chapter 1

Disclamer - Rick Riordan owns PJO and JK Rowling owns HP. I'm just a poor college student.

Chapter 1 – In which missing relatives are found

Albus wondered off-handedly if it was possible to feel so old and still be alive.

For years he had known that Tom was not really dead and that he would one day come back to fulfill the prophecy. He even had his suspicions on how he had achieved this sort of invulnerability – suspicions that had been confirmed by the same boy who had vanquished him over a decade ago at the end of the last school year.

For this reason, he had worked relentlessly to make sure his inevitable return didn't catch them unprepared.

He had kept in contact with most of the former Order members (those few who had survived the war, anyway) and he had also kept his eyes open for possible recruits among the younger generations and even the actual student body (the Weasleys were almost a given, of course, but he had pinpointed a few others that could prove to be great allies, like Nymphadora Tonks and Cedric Diggory).

He had begun his research on Horcruxes – and what objects Tom could've used to guard his soul – and he had hidden the Boy-Who-Lived, their only hope of ever seeing Voldemort defeated, with his muggle relatives where he was protected by powerful blood wards. Not to mention, the muggle world was terribly complicated to navigate for pureblood wizards and witches.

Of course, just when everything seemed to be going for the best, fate had thrown a monkey wrench into his plans in the form of Sirius Black.

That boy had always had the exceptional ability to make everything he touched go pear-shaped and Albus was not afraid to admit he had once delighted in and even admired his penchant for laying destruction to the enemy's best laid plans.

Now, though…

He really couldn't fathom what had gone wrong with the young Black.

"…and that's why I believe having Dementors at Hogwarts would be a good idea."

Albus tuned back into the conversation just as Cornelius reiterated the need for Dementors for what had to be the millionth time that week.

"I like it even less than you do, Albus, I assure you."

He shook his head. "I doubt it, Cornelius. You won't be the one sharing a school with those wretched creatures and you can only imagine the effects they will have on the children." He glanced at the Phoenix resting peacefully on his perch out of the corner of his eye and he felt his spirits lift a little. "No, I won't allow them on school grounds and while I cannot stop you from stationing them in Hogsmeade, I beseech you to reconsider. They are malignant beings not fit to guard a prison full of criminals, let alone a school."

The head in the fireplace snorted, sending tendrils of flame careening through the air. "Spare me the melodramatic political propaganda, Albus. I cannot, and will not, kick the Dementors out of Azkaban just because you think they're an inhuman punishment. They're the only thing standing between us and worse monsters."

"Alas, that's something we won't ever agree on and I can only hope you'll never have to witness just how unpredictable and uncontrollable Dementors can be." He stared at Cornelius over the frame of his glasses and he was pleased to see him squirming (or as close to squirming as a disembodied head could get). "Still, I won't allow them anywhere near my school and that's final."

"And what happens if Black isn't caught before getting to Scotland? You know who he's going to target."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, Cornelius." He retorted sharply, his voice taking on an unyielding tone, "The school is well protected, I assure you. The safety of my students is not something I take lightly."

Cornelius hurried to nod, appearing surprised that his seemingly innocent question had been taken as an insult. "Of course, of course. I was not trying to imply that, well…you know, that you wouldn't be able to defend your students. Still," he continued hesitantly, not meeting Albus' eyes, "after what happened during the last two school years…the board of Governors is understandably worried."

Blaming someone else for his fears seemed to give him the strength necessary to say his next piece. Albus often wondered why the magical population of Britain had chosen someone as weak-willed and easily manipulated as Cornelius Fudge as its first minister. The answer, frankly, scared him.

"I mean, You-Know-Who managed to infiltrate Hogwarts twice! He possessed two different people and almost killed many more." He sighed deeply. "Many parents would consider the Dementors a lesser threat compared to a man who murdered thirteen people with a single curse."

Albus forced his lips to stretch into a credible smile. From the way the other man paled, he suspected it ended up looking more like a baring of teeth than anything else. "Ah, but Sirius Black is not Vol–"

"Don't say his name!"

"–demort." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Cornelius' outburst. Now, that would be undignified. "He doesn't have his resources," _I hope_ , "nor his considerable power. And while he was always a successful and bright student, I've no doubt Azkaban has greatly damaged his thinking abilities."

"I wouldn't bet on that, Albus." Cornelius snorted, still looking a bit put-out by his use of Voldemort's name. "You seem to forget that I visited the prisoners many times throughout my tenure. Black isn't insane by any stretch of the word. Last time I saw him, right before he evaded, he was lucid and perfectly capable of critical thinking." He shook his head, his lips as thin as Minerva's on a bad day. "We shouldn't underestimate him. Mark my words, Albus – he is as dangerous as he ever was."

A shiver ran down Albus' spine. He himself hadn't gone back to Azkaban since before the end of the war. He hadn't personally seen the effects the Dementors had had on Sirius Black, but simply assumed he would be no better than any other prisoner: either catatonic or crazy. And while an insane person was by no means harmless, they rarely had the lucidity necessary to plan ahead (Albus firmly believed an enemy without a plan was a dead enemy).

Dementors truly were terrifying creatures, worse than any curse or torture invented by man, and the possibility that someone could be completely unaffected by them was almost absurd.

If what Cornelius said was true and Sirius Black was indeed immune to their powers, then either his determination and will were stronger than Albus had ever suspected or, perhaps even more worrying, he didn't have enough of a conscience left to feel guilty.

Maybe the other man was right, after all; maybe he really was underestimating the threat.

He could feel a migraine building up just behind his eyes and his limbs felt uncharacteristically heavy, even for a man of his considerable age.

Albus wondered, just for a moment, if perhaps it was time to rest and let someone else take over. He was old, _too_ old, and he often felt as if his brain was slowing down, as if it was unable to think and scheme and imagine with the speed and agility he was used to and the outside world was but a muffled jumble of sounds.

What if Cornelius had it right? What if allowing the Dementors into Hogwarts was the only way to keep Harry and the other students safe?

Then again, he reminded himself, Dementors were hardly the lesser evil.

Harry could learn to defend himself from another wizard, especially if he was surrounded day and night by faculty members and powerful wards. Protecting oneself from the onslaught of memories that close proximity to Dementors caused was a unicorn of a different colour.

Albus shook himself, exhaling deeply. "All the same, my position remains unchanged. If Black makes it to Scotland and Hogwarts – well, we'll cross that bridge once we come to it."

And he already had a few ideas how (none involved making a deal with Death, funnily enough).

There were a few people he'd need to contact, a few strings he'd need to pull and a stubborn, self-hating werewolf of a former student he'd need to talk out of self-enforced isolation, but he was positive he could pull it off.

Yes, he'd be prepared for Sirius Black to make his move.

Cornelius shook his head. "You're going to regret it, Albus."

"I certainly hope not, my friend." _I certainly hope not._

Roughly an hour after Cornelius' head had vacated his fireplace, and just when he was getting ready to join the few professors still at Hogwarts during the summer for a light lunch, the charmed glass ball linked to the moving staircase trilled softly, warning him that someone was on his (or her) way to see him.

Albus was already back on his chair (he was starting to hate the thing) and smiling benevolently at nothing in particular when he heard them stop right in front of his door.

"Come in." he called before they had time to knock. He so loved seeing the dumbfounded expressions on his visitors' faces at his apparent omniscience.

This particular visitor did not disappoint and Albus almost felt like beaming.

"Good-morning, Headmaster." The younger man sounded bashful, "I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important. I would've come earlier, but I've been terribly busy these past days."

This time Albus did beam. "Nonsense, Tyler. I always have free time for my old students." He indicated the chair on the other side of his desk with a wave and waited patiently for Tyler to discard his bag and sit. "So, what brings you back to your Alma Mater, my dear boy? Do you need help with something?"

It had been a while since he had last seen Tyler Blackwood up close – over a decade, in fact – and he was glad to see the years had been kind to him. Sure, his cropped black hair had a few more gray strands and he was paler than Albus remember, but his hazel eyes were as lively as ever and he looked fit and healthy.

He hadn't lied when he had said he always had time for a student, former or current. It was an incomparable pleasure seeing the successful witches and wizards they had become.

"Actually, I was hoping to _offer_ help in a way. If you're still interested, that is."

Albus raised an eye-brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it's about that…conversation we had after You-Know-Who's fall, when you asked me to track down Lily Evans' remaining family."

Albus' second eye-brow joined the first near his hair-line without his consent. "Ah. Well, that's surprising."

And it was.

Tyler had left Hogwarts the year before Lily, James and the rest of their friends began. He had been a Ravenclaw and also one of the few muggleborn wizards who kept up with their muggle studies after being accepted at Hogwarts.

It had given him a considerable advantage in his field of choice.

As far as he could remember, Tyler's one true love had always been the history of families. Filius had found him scavenging the library for information on the origin of the most ancient and noble houses of the magical world at improbable hours more than once.

After he had left Hogwarts, he had apprenticed for a number of years under the tutelage of Magdalene Crawford, one of Albus' own former classmates and an exceptional witch.

Though young, Tyler had soon become one of the major experts on magical genealogy and probably the only wizard in the British Isles interested in the muggle one.

And so, in the wake of Voldemort's fall and the Potters' death, Albus had contacted him to ask for a favor.

He could remember it as if it was yesterday. It had been the first of November, mere hours after James and Lily had been killed and Tom vanquished. He had already erected the blood wards around the Dursleys' house and left Harry with his aunt, hoping he would be safe, when he had found himself knocking on Tyler's door.

To say the man had been astonished would be an understatement.

"I know this is pretty much out of the blue, Professor, but I've found something that could interest you. To be honest, I don't know how I missed it years ago."

"Those were busy days for everyone, my boy." Albus reassured him, all the time hoping he hadn't made a mistake in contacting Tyler instead of the more experienced Magdalene. In his defense, he had known the older witch would be too busy with the mess left behind by Voldemort to help him. "Do tell, please."

"At the time of your request I told you Petunia Evans Dursley was the only surviving member of Lily Evans' family of origin. Her grand-parents had died when she was a child and so had her parents a few years previous."

Albus nodded, indicating he still remembered those same information from years ago. He had been both saddened and elated by the news. Saddened, because it was always hard to lose one's family, especially at a young age such as Lily's. Elated, because it made his job infinitely easier.

The only way Tom could nullify the blood protection on Harry was to absorb some of the blood the protection itself was anchored to: Lily's blood.

For Albus' plan to work, Voldemort would've to take that blood directly from Harry or the boy wouldn't survive. It was a slim chance, but better than nothing. (He tried not to think too much about it, anyway, or he'd end up a sobbing mess on the floor and that wouldn't help anyone).

For this reason, he had tasked Tyler with tracking down any remaining blood relative of Lily's so that he could then offer them his protection.

"The other day, I was going through a few of my old researches and I found an unopened letter from the General Register Office of London." He scratched the back of his head, looking abashed. "It had apparently gotten lost in the chaos that's my office."

"It can happen to everyone, I'm sure." Albus winked at him, suppressing the sudden spike of fear he had felt in his gut at Tyler's words. "And what did this letter say?"

"Well, it would seem that Lily Evans had another relative, after all. A younger sister."

That was bad.

/

He had called Trixie from the kitchens and asked for tea and biscuits before Tyler could go on. He had a feeling he was going to need it (and perhaps something stronger) for the conversation they were about to have.

"So, another sister." He wondered out-loud, carefully sipping the hot beverage. Tyler nodded. "Why didn't we know about her until now?"

Tyler tightened his hands around his cup. "When their parents died in a plane crash, Miss Petunia Evans was already of age, while Lily became a ward of the Magical Ministry until she turned seventeen two years later, as you probably remember."

"I do. Minerva and I were the ones to sign all the necessary paperwork."

Tyler nodded. "Their sister Sally was only thirteen at the time. Custody was awarded to a maternal uncle living in the States and she moved there. I can only assume that contact with her sisters became scarce from that point on for one reason or another. She even took her mother's maiden name, Jackson."

"No, I cannot imagine she had a close relationship with Petunia. Lily once told me her older sister wasn't particularly attached to the rest of her family. As for Lily herself, she had her own life in the magical world." Albus leaned back against his chair with a sigh. "The States. That would explain how she escaped our notice."

"I did a bit of research these past few days." Tyler took a roll of parchments out of his bag and passed it over to Albus. "That's everything I could find about Sally. Her uncle died when she was seventeen from lung cancer and she was left alone."

Albus winced. "Not a lucky girl."

"Not really. Her economic situation was – well, frankly a disaster. Her uncle's expensive treatments sapped her saving. She dropped out of high school and found a job. From what I was able to uncover, she will be going back to college in the fall."

"Why didn't she contact her sister for help?" Albus muttered more to himself than to Tyler.

The other man, though, took it as something more than a rhetorical question. "I may be able to answer that."

Albus stopped distractedly thumbing through the parchments and raised his head. There had been something...suspicious in Tyler's voice; something that hinted at worse news to come.

The younger man met his eyes reluctantly. "I also found out that Miss Jackson has a son."

Yes, he was definitely going to need something stronger than tea.

"A son." He half whispered. "A young boy, I imagine?"

Tyler pressed his lips together, unsure. "Yes...and no." Noticing Albus' unimpressed expression, he hurried to add, "I mean, he's a young boy, but not as young as you're probably thinking. He'll be turning thirteen on the eighteenth of August."

His mental image of a red-haired, green-eyed toddler was swiftly replaced by that of a teenager. "Harry's age, then." He frowned. "That would mean Miss Jackson was only eighteen when he was born."

"That's why I think she didn't contact her sister. From what you told me years ago she's not an open-minded woman."

"She isn't."

Lily had never talked much about her family, but he had once overheard her say that her sister was intolerant of everything that she perceived as different, and not just magic. He imagined he hadn't helped, answering her request of attending Hogwarts without warning her parents that their eldest daughter had felt left out, but he had honestly believed he was sparing her the humiliation of having to explain her feelings to them.

"What about the boy's father?"

"Unknown. I think that, well," he shrugged.

Albus' lips tightened in disapproval. "He left his family." He sighed heavily. "Nothing that can be done about that, unfortunately. Now, Tyler, if that's all I'd –" he made to get up, but his visitor interrupted him.

"Not exactly, sir."

He sat back down with an expectant look.

"Sally's son seems to be a wizard. Though I've no idea why he would still be attending a muggle school."

Albus replaced his empty cup on its saucer and accepted the new roll of parchments that Tyler offered him. He squinted at the writing on top. "Perseus. Interesting name."

"He was named after the constellation."

"Or the hero from the old stories." He grinned at Tyler over the top of the parchment. "You said he goes to a muggle school."

Tyler took the invitation to further elaborate for what it was. "Not with much success, I've got to say. He was kicked out of basically every school he ever attended, the last one being a strict academy for juvenile delinquents. Many of the accidents were caused by what was probably his magic escaping his control. Others, though, were all him. He's also dyslexic and ADHD which doesn't make studying easy."

"Muggle disorders, right?" Albus went on before Tyler had even had the time to nod, "to answer your previous question, the reason he doesn't attend a wizarding school is that the educational system in the States is a bit, ah, messier than ours. Less structured, if you want.

"There are only two schools of Magic for all of North America – not just the States, but Canada too – and one of them, Salem Witches' Institute, only accepts, as the name implies, witches. The other school, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is left to cover the entirety of the male and roughly half of the female magical population.

"It's not a surprise that many muggle-borns fall through the cracks. It seems to have happened to our young Perseus, too."

Tyler looked disturbed, probably imagining what his life would've been like if his magic hadn't been recognized for what it was. "They should find a better way to monitor possible students."

"I agree. But thanks to you," Albus smiled at him, "we now know about Mr Jackson and we can offer him a place at Hogwarts, albeit a few years late."

Tyler grinned. "Glad to be of help." He got to his feet and Albus followed suit. "That's everything, I think. Just..." he pursued his lips, "I didn't say anything years ago because I assumed you were looking for a place where young Harry Potter could live, but you didn't need my help to find Petunia Evans and so, if I may ask, what's the real reason you're interested in Lily Evans' muggle family? Are you planning on removing Harry from his aunt's custody?"

Albus smiled affably, hiding his irritation behind a congenial mask.

He freely admitted, if only to himself, that his feeling of vexation was quite irrational. Tyler was an intelligent and scrupulous man and it was only logical he'd notice inconsistencies in the excuse he had given to disguise the true motivation behind his interest in Lily's relatives. It wasn't his best lie, after all.

Unfortunately, not a word of what he knew, or suspected, could reach unwanted ears, which meant keeping it a secret from everyone, even his most trusted companions.

"Nothing quite so drastic, my friend." He said. "Just mere curiosity. And I think young Harry would like to know he has other relatives outside his aunt and cousin. Not to mention, Sally probably doesn't even know her nephew survived that night. I doubt Petunia has told her." He offered Tyler his hand over the desk. "About your discoveries – I trust they will remain between us. At least until Harry himself decides to make them public."

"Of course." Tyler assured, letting go of his hand. "Client confidentiality and all that. Good day, Professor."

Albus waited until he was out of the door and all the way down the stairs before letting his smile slip.

Perceiving the downcast turn his mood had taken, Fawkes chirped softly, almost mournfully, and flew on his lap. He butted his head against one of Albus' hand, letting out a joyful trill as the old man began petting him.

Albus chuckled. "Ah, Fawkes. What would I do without you? I would certainly be lost."

The Phoenix cooed appreciatively.

An aunt and a cousin. That complicated things, but at least Harry would've someone else to call family. The gods knew the boy severely missed that. Albus couldn't imagine he would be sad about having a wizard cousin his own age, unless he turned out to be just one more Dudley, spoiled and capricious.

He glanced at the stack of parchments labelled ' _Perseus Jackson_ '. The boy was a trouble-maker, for sure, but Albus had to appreciate his consistency in getting kicked out of school every year since he was seven and his ingenuity in always finding new ways of doing it. A true marauder at heart, he thought giddily. He was going to give hell to his poor teachers.

The matter of their blood was worrying. They had Lily's blood coursing through their veins and that alone made them targets for Voldemort and his Death-Eaters. He'd have to protect them, Sally especially as she was a closer relation to the late witch.

He sighed and began browsing through the parchments with Sally's information, looking for an address.

It seemed a visit was imperative.

/

/

The freezing wind bit at his skin despite the thick fur covering it.

Sirius shivered and curled more tightly into himself. He had hoped the small cave he had uncovered would protect him from the elements and give him the chance to rest for an hour or two before getting back on the road, but no such luck.

Ever since he had escaped from Azkaban five days ago, he had been unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

Nightmares tormented him more than ever. Ironically enough, getting away from the Dementors had seemed to bring back not only his higher brain functions, but also the understanding of how much he had really lost that fateful night over a decade ago.

His resting moments – few and far between as they were – were populated by the friends he had let down.

Every night, James and Lily stared accusingly at him, their eyes empty and their voices hoarse as they blamed him for leaving them in their betrayer's hands.

Remus cursed his name, his scars standing out starkly against the deathly pallor of his face. The wolf peeked out from behind his eyes, savagely satisfied of his downfall.

Peter smirked at him seconds before the explosion rocked the street and people – innocent people – were screaming and running and he was laughing because his entire life was slipping through his hands like water, but he couldn't cry, not yet.

And Harry, their pride and joy, bawling in Hagrid's arms, his forehead covered in blood, his face red and streaked with dirt.

He should've taken him.

He should've taken him and run, run, run until he couldn't hear James' and Lily's voice and see the wolf's hunger and smell the blood.

But he had let Hagrid take Harry and he had watched them fly away while the home James and Lily had built burned to the ground, the stench of dark magic everywhere and the smell of decaying flesh overpowering.

He didn't need to turn around to know who was there. Ghosts crawled out of their graves to torment him. But he deserved it, didn't he?

His ears twitched and he whined.

"Of course you deserve it. Shouldn't have trusted you." They whispered.

He didn't remember turning, but suddenly he was staring into Lily's milky white eyes and he wondered where the green had gone. But of course, green was life and it couldn't exist in death. Or was it the other way around? He didn't know anymore.

"You did this to us. You killed us."

James' neck was bent at an odd angle and what remained of his jaw hung open in a twisted imitation of a grin.

"Look at us."

He didn't want to.

 _They are not James and Lily,_ his mind told him. _Lily's hair is as fiery as her courage and her eyes as green as Spring and James smiles and laughs and calls you his best-friend and they would not blame you. They're not James and Lily._

"Look at us."

But his heart thumped painfully because it knew something his brain did not: there is no forgiveness for those like him.

"You don't deserve forgiveness."

The ghosts left, their last words a mournful lament for the life they had lost, but something else emerged from his past to haunt him.

The smile of the wolf was a grotesque thing, all teeth and maliciousness. It stretched Remus' face uncomfortably and turned him into something he had never been before: a night terror.

"I know who you are." It purred, circling him. "I see you. I see your anger, your hatred, the violence you try to hide."

Not true. Not true. Not true. Not true.

"It's not the first time you let your friends down."

Not Remus. Not Remus. Not Remus. Not Remus.

The wolf snarled, but it was Remus' voice that left its mouth, "And it was a joke to you!"

It pounced and he fell and fell and fell and when he opened his eyes, Harry's crib was next to him, but this time Harry wasn't crying. He was just staring into the void, eyes as empty as his mother's, and he wanted to scream because he failed. Instead he just laughed and laughed and laughed as the Aurors took him away.

 _All your fault!_

Sirius snapped awake from the nightmare he had slipped into with a growl.

His superior canine hearing could detect the sound of cars in the distance and the smaller animals moving through the undergrowth, but nothing else.

There were no voices and no ghosts from the past. The only scents that reached his nose were those typical of a forest, albeit a small and man-made one.

He looked up at the stars, but they didn't seem to have moved any since the last time he checked, just before laying down. He certainly didn't feel rested.

He got up, limping slightly from a wound he had acquired the day before while trying to sneak into a dumpster.

It was obvious he was not going to rest easy until he had accomplished what he had set out to do. Once he had killed the rat and made sure Harry was safe – well, he'd probably have more than enough time to sleep.

Before going to Hogwarts, though, he wanted to see his godson at least once.

He could worry about his mission later.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you to everyone who has read this story or favored/followed it. And thank you to those of you that reviewed. While I've been writing for…years (basically all my life), this is the first story I've ever published and I was a bit shy about it. I'm glad you guys found it interesting enough to give it a chance.

I forgot to mention in the previous chapter that English is not my first language (I'm Italian!) and I don't have a Beta, so if you find any mistake feel free to point it out.

The first few chapters will be a bit slow as they are a sort of introduction to the story. Hope you enjoy the second one and leave me a review if you have the time ;)

One last thing. The HP's timeline has been changed to fit the story. As you know, Harry was born on the 31st of July 1980, which means he is thirteen years older than Percy, who is born on the 18th of August 1993. In this story they were both born in '93 and Voldemort attacked the Potters in '94, instead of '81. It is now 2006 like in PJO – The Lightning Thief.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. As previously stated I'm, in fact, quite poor, unlike Rick Riordan and JK Rowling, who are the undisputed Gods of these worlds I'm borrowing. Gandalf belongs to Tolkien or perhaps to his heirs. I'm not sure. Either way, not mine.

Chapter 2 – In which Percy gets a visit from Gandalf

Sally and Perseus Jackson lived in Manhattan, New York, in a nice neighbourhood of tall redbrick buildings and quiet roads not far from Central Park.

From what Tyler had uncovered, they had moved there only a few months previous, at the beginning of summer, following Sally's husband's rather abrupt, not to say suspicious, disappearance.

It was an up-grade, apparently. Their former apartment was in a poor and disreputable neighbourhood, famous for its gang activity. Sally had been able to afford the move only after the successful sale of a statue, of all things, to a gallery in SoHo.

Of course, Albus conceded in his own mind, the young woman could've just discovered a useful talent and taken advantage of it and yet there was something that didn't quite add up. Perhaps it was the fact she had become quite well-off just after her husband's disappearance. Or that her husband had never been found, dead or alive, and she didn't seem particularly broken over it, at least from what the muggle detectives had written in their report.

Or perhaps, after a life-time of battles and wars, he had simply become too cynical for his own good.

The Jacksons' building was old, but well kept and it sat right in front of a quaint coffee shop. Albus had been tempted to go in and order one of the delicious looking cup-cakes but, alas, he was on a strict schedule and could not afford detours.

So he had crossed the street, humming lightly to himself and ignoring the few incredulous looks he had gotten from other pedestrians (and even from a rather inattentive driver). Maybe he shouldn't have worn robes, after all.

He entered the building and tipped his hat to the slightly overweight doorman sitting behind the glass of his small cubicle. The man stared at him open-mouthed, his newspaper falling from his limp hands.

Albus smiled jovially. "Hello, good man! You can probably help me. I'm looking for two of your tenants, Sally and Perseus Jackson."

The man just gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. Albus looked at him expectantly until he jolted out of his stupor.

"Sally and Perseus...Of course!" he scrambled to recover the list of tenants from the mess that was his desk. "The Jacksons." He muttered under his breath, his finger following the line of names. "There they are! Sixth floor, Apartment fourteen."

His relieved smile turned into a frown as he took in Albus' robes and extraordinarily long beard once more. He suddenly looked worried, as if second guessing the appropriateness of sharing with him the personal information of the building's residents.

"Why exactly are you –" he began.

"Oh, nothing serious. Just boring familial matters."

Albus cheerfully waved at the flustered man and started up the long and winding stairs. He had an inkling he was going to regret not learning how to use a muggle lift by the time he got to the sixth floor.

He was proved right a few minutes later. The stairs didn't get any less steep going up and he certainly wasn't getting any younger. By the time he reached the Jacksons' storey, he was panting and wheezing. His knees were painfully protesting the long upward trek and a side stitch was cutting off his breath, forcing him to almost bend in two to dull the pain.

He wasted a few more minutes trying to get his heart rate under control (it took longer than he would've liked) and then he began scanning the hall for the right door.

The building was as immaculate on the inside as it was on the outside. The wall on his right was composed of ceiling-to-floor windows that gave him an unobstructed view of the neighbourhood. In the distance, he spied a mass of green that was probably a part of Central Park and the bluish glint of a river Albus didn't know.

The floor was polished wood – solid under his feet as he walked – and the opposite wall was painted a rich burgundy red that complemented the dark mahogany of the floorboard.

There were four doors in a row, their colour a shade lighter than that of the floor, and he individuated his objective in the last one near the corner of the building.

His gaze fell on the golden numbers that stood at eye-level, reassuring him he had the right apartment, and he knocked.

From the inside, he heard a woman's voice calling out something he couldn't discern, followed by running footsteps and a clanking sound, like metallic objects being moved in a rush.

A teenage boy opened the door a moment later.

Albus appraised him, slightly taken aback by his appearance. If this was young Perseus (which was almost a given considered he had knocked at his door), he was nothing like Albus had imagined him to be.

He was an handsome young boy, for sure, though not particularly tall for his age, which he estimated to be around Harry's. He had pitch black hair that fell in waves over his forehead, giving him a sort of careless elegance that oddly reminded him of a young Sirius Black, and he was tan and fit. It was clear from his traits that he was of Mediterranean descent, perhaps Italian or Greek. His eyes were his most striking feature, though. They were green on the inside and blue on the outer rim with splashes of gray thrown in. They looked as ever-changing and unpredictable as the sea. Albus wondered offhandedly if that applied to the boy's personality as well.

The boy himself stared back at him just as intensely. He seemed to be trying to look right through him and see something beyond the surface, something that was not there.

Then, apparently satisfied there wasn't anything more to be seen, he said: "Are you here to take me on an adventure?"

Albus felt a smile tug at his lips. "Why, my boy! I'm sure I can think of something. I don't have an ancient treasure to recover nor a ring to destroy, but I could most certainly find you a dragon to battle." Or even a Dark Lord, in fact, but that was someone else's fight.

The boy raised an eyebrow and was clearly about to comment when a voice came from inside the apartment.

"Percy! Who is at the door?"

"Gandalf, Mom!" he shouted back, "I think I'm going on an adventure!" Albus laughed softly and Perseus grinned at him. "Nice beard, really. Doesn't it get annoying?"

"Ah, yes, I'm afraid it does get a bit bothersome, especially when I eat biscuits. All those crumbs!" he winked, making the boy snicker. "Why, were you thinking of growing one yourself?"

Perseus snorted. "I think not. I–"

It was at that point that who he assumed was Sally Jackson appeared at the door, interrupting what her son was about to say. "Percy, what do you mean Ganda – oh."

She came up short as she spotted him. She studied him for a long moment just as her son had done before smiling hesitantly. "If it's a Hobbit you were looking for, I'm afraid you're in the wrong place. Though this one," she nudged her son playfully, "is not much taller than them."

"Hey!" Perseus protested hotly.

Albus beamed. "No, my dear. I'm actually looking for Lily's sister."

Sally's eyes widened. "Oh."

Perseus looked from one to the other, his outrage at the dig about his height temporarily forgotten. "Sister? What is he talking about?"

"Why don't we go inside," she suggested, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder, "and discuss it in front of a cup of coffee?"

She didn't seem keen on discussing it at all, but Albus ignored both her reticence and Perseus' obvious mistrust in the face of his mother's hesitance and nodded.

"A truly marvellous idea."

/

/

Percy followed his mom into the kitchen and partially closed the door so they could talk without being overheard and at the same time keep an eye on the Rip van Winkle wannabe comfortably sitting on their couch.

He was pretty sure the old man wasn't a monster disguised by the Mist, but better safe than sorry.

"You shouldn't leave him alone. It's not nice." His mom said.

The coffee-maker was already on the burner and she was taking two cups out of the cupboard.

Percy frowned. "What about me?"

His mom threw him a sceptical glance. "You know what coffee does to you." She opened a drawer and then another, looking frazzled. "The last thing you need is more energy. Where did we put the teaspoons?"

"Last drawer near the sink."

Even though she had been living in the new apartment almost the whole summer, while he had gotten there less than a week ago, she still couldn't seem to find anything without help. Percy's bedroom was still stacked with boxes, though that had more to do with his uncertain homecoming than anything else.

"Can I help you?" without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a plate and started piling it high with blue chocolate chips cookies. They were still lukewarm from the oven.

She smiled at him and softly ruffled his hair. Her hand was trembling slightly. "You really should go back to the living room. I can take care of things here."

Percy thought she sounded hesitant. And really, he didn't want to leave her alone.

He decided a change of topic was necessary. "He was surprised that I didn't know what he was talking about."

Ok, maybe he just wanted to know what the Hades was going on.

They both glanced as one at the living room through the small gap between the door and the wall. Albus Dumbledore, as he had said his name was (and honestly, he had no place to judge), was downright gawking at their television set, as if he had never seen something quite like that before.

"Doesn't he know what a TV is?"

A line appeared between his mom's eyes. "I don't think he does."

Because that wasn't strange at all. Not even the year-rounders at Camp were this ignorant of modern technology. Where had this dude been living?

Percy sighed. "Mom, what's going on? Does – does it have something to do with Poseidon?"

As always when he mentioned his father, her eyes misted over and sadness clouded her face. Differently from before, though, when the only emotion he had been able to discern was melancholy, now he could glimpse fear too in the set of her jaw and the tightness around her lips. She knew better than most how dangerous the life of a demigod was, after all.

"No, Percy." She admitted at last. "It's about my side of the family. And don't call him Poseidon." She added as an afterthought. "He's your father."

Percy shrugged, unwilling to get into that argument with her. He didn't feel like explaining his confused feelings about Poseidon to his mom. Most of the time, he couldn't seem to explain them even to himself; other times, instead, he wondered if Luke hadn't been onto something that night in the forest. Of course, the asshole had tried to off him so maybe he shouldn't keep his opinions in consideration.

"What do you mean _your_ side of the family?" he asked instead. "I thought, you know, that you didn't have any left. And he talked about a sister. You don't have a sister, do you?"

Steam came out of the coffee pot with a whistle and she turned off the burner.

"I...haven't been completely honest with you."

Percy widened his eyes and brought a hand to his chest in mock-horror. "Really? Who would've said!" he exclaimed wryly. His smile took the sting out of the words.

His mom jabbed him lightly on the ribs. "Hilarious, Percy." She poured coffee into the cups. "You know I moved here in New York after my parents died and I had to go live with my uncle Rick. What I didn't tell you is that I had two sisters who remained in England."

The sugar dispenser almost slipped from his fingers. His mom grabbed it and put it on the tray before he could do any more damage.

"Be careful, Percy."

He blithely ignored the rebuke. "Two?! Ok, this is too weird. _Why_ didn't you tell me? And why didn't we ever visit them? Or, you know, them us." He scrunched up his nose, remembering belatedly who they had used to share a house with until the beginning of summer. "You know what? Forget I asked."

She sighed heavily. "There really wasn't any reason to. Petunia and I –" she noticed his grimace and smirked, "Yes, her name is Petunia and yes, it's terrible. And so was she, really, which is why I didn't tell you about her. We weren't close. In fact, we barely talked to each-other."

"Wow. Nice to know Dad is not the only one with problems in the siblings department."

Her sudden smile was the only thing that tipped him off to his usage of the word "Dad". His mouth twisted in a scowl and he busied himself with rearranging the tray to hide it from her. He didn't think of Poseidon as his dad. He _didn't_.

"He isn't. Though I didn't spend half as much time as him complaining about them." A fond look made its way on her face. It reminded Percy of the one he had seen on Poseidon's face when talking about her. "Anyway, things didn't improve between Petunia and me after I moved. At the time she was already eighteen and she went to live with her boyfriend." It was her turn to grimace deeply. "they got married two or three years after that. I wasn't invited."

"Nice. You didn't like him, hm?" Percy grinned.

His mom snorted loudly. "Not at all. He was a bigot of the worst kind, intolerant of everything that didn't fit in his perfect, cookie-cutter world."

"Let me guess – like you."

She nodded. "He thought I was beyond strange, seeing things that 'weren't there'" she winked at him. "Of course, my other sister was the one they really hated."

"Lily?" he asked, remembering the name Dumbasadoor had used to convince his mom to let him in.

"Lily. She was..." she hesitated, throwing a look at their guest in the other room. Her voice lowered. "Well, it's not stranger than Greek Gods."

Percy frowned. He had the feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"Lily...was a witch."

Percy felt his jaw go slack with shock. "A what?"

His mom smiled dryly. "A witch. As in, pointy hat and flying broom."

Percy struggled to find the words. "A witch. Of course. My life sucks. Don't we have normal relatives?"

She let out a startled laugh and put an arm around his waist. "Nope. I'm sorry."

"So," he nodded towards the living room, "he's a...witch too?" and how strange did that sound? "Considering he knew your sister and everything."

"A wizard, actually. I don't think he'd appreciate being called a witch."

"Politically incorrect?"

"Something like that." She slapped his hand away from a cookie he'd been trying to filch with nonchalance. "Lily attended a school of magic somewhere in Scotland. He was the Headmaster."

He frowned, massaging his stinging hand. Was that like a principal? And a school of magic. How...quaint, he thought wryly, for some reason reminded of Mr D. and his pompous dismissal of everything mortals did and created. He could imagine his reaction to a school of magic full of robes-wearing kids. Of course, he amended a moment later, the Gods probably already knew everything there was to be known about Dumbles and his school: they had eyes and ears everywhere. And wasn't there a goddess of magic, anyway?

He forced his mind back on track before his ADHD got the best of him. "So, this sister, what happened to her exactly?" at his mom's surprised look, he elaborated, "You said she _was_ a witch, not she _is_. It's obvious something happened to her. Give me some credit."

His mom's smile was a tight, painful thing that tugged at his heart-strings. "I'm not sure. What I know is that studying and living in the wizarding world, as she called it, wasn't as whimsical as it seemed. Witches and wizards born of normal families like her were considered inferior by a few. Less than a month before our parents died, she told me that an extremely powerful and dangerous wizard had formed a sort of terrorist group bent on wiping out all those like her and that the magical government wasn't doing much to contain the threat."

"There is a magical government?" he didn't know if he should feel amused by the thought of someone as weird as Bumbles leading a nation or straight out terrified.

His mom's lips curved in a smile. "I tell you about the magical answer to Hitler and your first worry is that there is a government for magical people?"

She sounded incredulous.

Percy shrugged. "Racism and discrimination exist everywhere, unfortunately, and a government that doesn't protect its citizens is not surprising. I hope my aunt didn't just lay down and roll over?"

"What do they teach you at that Camp?" she shook her head. "And no, Lily was all about fighting for one's rights. It was something we had in common." She pinched his cheek with a smile. "You didn't think you got all that rebelliousness only from your father, did you?"

Percy ducked his head. "I hope not."

"Lily fought and so did her husband. They were both killed a few months after your first birthday. They were twenty-one." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "Their child died too."

Percy's head snapped up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. "Child? They had a kid?"

"Yeah. Harry. He was born not even a month before you. You two would've been the same age. Petunia's kid, too, is thirteen, now that I think about it."

His mind reeled with all the new information. "And that guy? The wizard Hitler?"

She raised a shoulder. "I don't know. But I think our guest does."

Before he could ask anything else, she pushed the tray with the coffee and cookies in his hands and gently turned him to face the door.

"Why don't we ask him?"

That sounded like a good idea, actually.

/

Dumbledore was perusing the books on the shelves with great interest.

"You have an extensive collection, Sally." He complimented. "It seems you and your sister shared a love for books."

His mom's face flushed with pleasure. "We did. She was the one to teach me how to read before I started school."

The old man left his place by the shelves and joined them on the couch. He accepted the cup of coffee Percy offered him with a smile. "Thank you, my boy." He turned to his mom, "You and Lily were close, then? Forgive my curiosity, but it seems to me that you two didn't keep in touch after your move."

"Not as much as I would've liked." She admitted ruefully. "We were both young at the time and neither of us had the means to travel between the States and Britain. Her school – _your_ school didn't have phones and communication by owls was unreliable at such distances. Those poor animals would've died before delivering."

"Wait a moment." Percy interrupted. Both adults wheeled around and he wondered if they had forgotten he was even there. "Owls? You use owls to send letters?"

He had always hated those blasted birds – though he had never been sure why before that summer – and he was certain the feeling was mutual, but that sounded frighteningly like animal abuse to him. He didn't despise them _that_ much.

"We do." Dumbledore confirmed his worst fears. "They're incredibly intelligent animals, able to find almost anyone, even if they are hidden."

He already knew they were smart. Otherwise the goddess Athena wouldn't have chosen them as her animals. Gods only knew he had heard about Athena's appreciation for brains and how he apparently didn't have any enough to last him a lifetime during the summer.

"I imagine your mother has explained a few things while you were in the kitchen?" the old man went on.

Percy looked at his mom for confirmation. "I did." She answered in his place. "Percy didn't even know I wasn't an only child until today. I mean, Lily is dead and the last time I spoke to Petunia was soon after Lils was murdered and even then, it was only for a few minutes." She turned to him, taking his hand in hers. "I didn't see the need to tell you this. I'm sorry."

Percy intertwined their fingers reassuringly. "It's okay, mom. I understand."

Dumbledore gave them a moment to compose themselves before saying, "There are a few more things you'd like to know, I imagine?"

His mom nodded. "Years ago, Lily told me about a possible war in your world and I know she fought in it and died, but not much else."

Dumbledore let out a deep breath. He put his half-empty cup of coffee back on the tray and grabbed a cookie, his lips twitching upwards at the sight of its strange colour. "Alas, that's a long and sad story, Sally, but you have the right to know why exactly your sister died." He rolled the cookie in his hands, but made no move to eat it.

"Our society," he began, "is as complex as the muggle one – that's what we call non-magical people and things." He explained before Percy could ask.

He thought it sounded a bit racist, but it was probably no different from them calling normal human beings 'mortals'.

"We have a Ministry of Magic, a government elected by the people, a military corps similar to muggle police. We have a court of law called the Wizengamot and treaties with foreign nations. There are completely magical towns and shopping districts. And, of course, schools of magic. Lily, as you know, attended the institute of which I'm Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Percy just about choked on his cookie. "Nice name." He said as soon as he got his bearing back.

His mom elbowed him in the side, but a fleeting smile stretched across Dumbledore's face.

"All of this is hidden from muggles by magic, though we once used to live together. Throughout the centuries, it became clear to the wizarding community that peaceful coexistence between our two people was...improbable, if not impossible. Humans are naturally scared of what they don't understand and muggles didn't understand magic or those who wielded it."

Percy resisted the urge the glance at his mom when her hand tightened around his. It was uncannily similar to what had happened to the Greek world.

"Witches and wizards born of muggles paid the highest price for this separation. Not only were they not accepted by their communities and often even by their parents, but they found themselves ostracized in the wizarding world too. Many, in fact, believed they should not be allowed to study or use magic. This discriminatory school of thought persisted through the centuries and even today there are those who readily consider not pureblood wizards – muggle-borns and half-bloods – inferior."

Percy jumped on his seat as if shocked. "Half-bloods?"

"Yes, half-bloods." Dumbledore studied him over his half-moon glasses for a long moment, scrutinizing his expression. Percy wondered if he had said too much. "It means a wizard with muggle grandparents or with a muggle parent." He explained in the end.

Percy inwardly sighed in relief.

"Lily told me of a wizard determined to kill all those who were not purebloods." Interjected his mom, reclaiming Dumbledore's attention.

"She was talking about Voldemort, a dark wizard so powerful and deranged that many still fear his name."

"He's dead, then?"

The old wizard hesitated. "Not exactly. Everything will be clear to you at the end of my explanation, I assure you."

Percy grimaced. After a trip to the Underworld, he didn't particularly like the idea of someone being 'not exactly dead'. He was pretty sure Hades wouldn't like it either.

"Voldemort was convinced of the inferiority of muggles and muggle-borns. He believed them to be a danger to wizarding society, a weakness that had to be eradicated. Many purebloods, especially those belonging to Ancient families, and even a number of half-bloods agreed with him. They became his Death-Eaters and they formed a veritable army."

His mom's eyebrow rose. "Death-Eaters? That's a...peculiar name."

"I believe one of his objectives was finding a way to elude death. Hence, the name Death-Eaters."

Yes, the dude was just begging to be hated by Hades. It wouldn't surprise Percy to know the God of the Dead had a spot ready for him in the Fields of Punishment.

"Is that why you said he wasn't exactly dead?" he asked.

Dumbledore tilted his head forward. "Yes. I have to say Percy, you're taking this better than I thought. I commend you."

Percy shrugged. "I'm very open-minded?" he tried. Truth was, he had gotten used to stranger things during the last few months. A community of magic-wielding weirdos was nothing compared to finding out the Greek gods were alive and kicking (and making his life more difficult than it had any reason of being). "And mom already told me about Lily, so..."

"Don't get me wrong – I'm glad. It makes things easier for me." The old man winked at him. "As you already know Sally, Lily fought against Voldemort. Not just for herself, but for every muggle-born child that set foot into the wizarding world and for every wizard that believed in equal rights. She was an exceptional witch and an even better person."

Judging by his mom's soft smile, Percy was willing to bet everything he owned she had already known that.

"Many others fought against Voldemort. Among them, Lily's friends and her husband, James Potter. Did you ever meet him, Sally?"

"Only once, at their wedding. It was the only time I ever went back to Britain after my parents' death."

"James was the heir to a powerful pureblood family and many on Voldemort's side viewed his marriage to a muggle-born as a personal offence. That, coupled with their conviction that muggle-borns should've equal rights and opportunities made them a target.

"Thrice they fought Voldemort himself and escaped. Then something happened that no one could've foreseen, though I did have my concerns: they were betrayed by someone they considered a friend and sold out to Voldemort."

"I have a question, sir." Admitted Percy. Dumbledore signalled him to go on. "Why did this...Voldemort target them personally? He could've sent his merry band of Death-Munchers to kill them. I doubt he took care of every enemy in person. One of my friends says the better part of leadership is delegating."

"You have a wise friend! But see, James and Lily were a bigger threat than most. Not just because of their magical power, but also for their political connections."

Percy nodded, but in the privacy of his mind he wondered just how truthful Dumbledore was being. He wasn't an expert on evil overlord wannabes. The only real experience he had were his dreams of what remained of Kronos and he doubted the Titan would waste time fighting every single demigod on earth. No, he would let his monsters do it while he went straight for the source of their power: the Gods themselves, the only real obstacles on his path of destruction.

If Voldemort had taken the time to kill them, then they had more than simple political connections on their side.

"On October thirty-first 1994, Voldemort attacked them in their house and murdered both James and Lily before attempting to kill their son, Harry."

For the first time in a few minutes, his mom looked up, surprise and badly restrained joy spreading over her face. "Attempted?"

Dumbledore smiled, finally taking a bite out of his cookie. "Attempted. Harry survived that night. The curse that was supposed to take his life rebounded and hit Voldemort instead."

Percy felt his mom abandon herself against the back of the couch in boneless relief.

"Gods, thank you." She murmured, low enough that only Percy heard her. "I can't believe Harry was alive all these years and I didn't know about it."

"I had suspected Petunia hadn't told you."

Something shrewd entered her eyes. "Petunia...he's with her, isn't he? She's Lily's only living relative beside us."

"Yes. We didn't have many options when it came to Harry's custody. I didn't even know of your existence until a few days ago." Dumbledore picked up the cup of coffee he had deserted half an hour ago and Percy saw him grimace slightly.

He suppressed a smirk. Did he honestly expect it to be still warm? More importantly, did wizards have ways of keeping food and beverages warm? Did they use thermos?

And how in Hades did he find out about them if his aunt Lily had never told him of her younger sister?

"I also thought he'd be safer there, not just from those seeking to harm him, but also from his fame."

"Fame?" asked Percy. "Because he survived an attack from the Voldemort dude?"

His mom gave him the meanest stink eye he had ever seen.

"Because he survived the killing curse." The old man specified. "Something no one had ever done before. Your cousin is probably the most well known wizard in the world."

"Bet it doesn't make his life easy."

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, it doesn't."

"Is he happy with Petunia and her family?" his mom asked. "She and Lily...didn't get along."

Percy got the feeling she had wanted to use a stronger term than a simple 'didn't get along'.

"They're not as close as I had hoped." Dumbledore admitted, looking anywhere but at her. "She doesn't seem to have let go of her resentment towards Lily."

"She's not the kind of person I'd entrust a child to. It's bad enough she has a son of her own to mould."

Percy stared at her astonished. He had never heard her talk like that about someone that was not Smelly Gabe. Maybe it was a good thing she had thrown away Medusa's head.

"As I've said, we didn't have many options."

She didn't retort, but by the tightening of her lips he could say the matter was far from closed.

"He goes to Hogwarts, right?"

Seemingly convinced the dangerous part of the conversation was over, Dumbledore smiled again. "He does. He's in Gryffindor like his parents."

Percy pulled a face. "Gryffinwhat now?"

"Ah, at Hogwarts, students are sorted into four houses – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Your house is sort of like your home away from home and the people that are part of it are your family."

"Sounds nice." It seemed somewhat similar to Camp, with the difference that at Camp they were _really_ family. For his cousin's sake, he hoped none of his classmates were as brutal as Clarisse and her siblings.

His mom laughed. "Oh, it is. I remember Lily going on and on about her housemates and how happy they all were every time they won the House Cup at the end of the year."

Percy decided not to ask. His brain already felt like it was melting from an information overload. No need to give Annabeth any more reasons to call him a Seaweed Brain.

"Your sister was quite competitive." Dumbledore chuckled. "And talking about Hogwarts. I didn't visit you just to tell you about Harry. I did a bit of research before coming here and it became clear to me that a terrible mistake was committed. It would seem that young Perseus –"

"Percy." He corrected at once. He appreciated his mom's faith in his continued survival, but that name was a mouthful. "Call me Percy."

The old man nodded. "Young Percy, then. Well, it would seem you're a wizard, my boy. Congratulations."

/

/

Albus left Sally and Percy's apartment over an hour later thinking that there was something undeniably wrong with their family.

He didn't know what, but he planned on finding out. Just not right now. He was too busy keeping Harry safe and trying to predict Voldemort's next move. Not to mention having to contain all the problems caused by the Black debacle, not just nationally but internationally as well.

Playing detective with the Jacksons' secrets would've to wait, even if they worried him. For now, he'd have to make do with keeping an eye on them, whether Percy attended Hogwarts or not.

Perhaps, though, he'd check out that statue one of these days.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Hi, guys! This chapter is a bit longer than the previous two. Ok, a lot longer. I couldn't find a suitable place to cut it so in the end I decided to post it all as one chapter.

I have a confession to make. I'm a sucker for Poseidon/Percy-Father/Son bonding. I don't know why since I'm usually more of a mother/child bonding fan, but those two just melt my frozen heart. The reason why I'm telling you this will be clear once you read the chapter.

The information on witch hunt is all true.

 **To the guests who have reviewed** – I'm glad you liked the story. Thank you to all of you, with the exception of Slade, whose reading abilities are not up to par and didn't realize that I had specified the HP's timeline had been changed at the beginning of the last chapter. Also, if you need a calculator to know that someone born in 1980 would be 26 in 2006, you are the brain dead one. Feel free to stop reading this story, Slade ;)

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, even if it's one giant explanation.

 **Disclaimer:** Once again, I own nothing. What a sad life I lead.

 **Chapter 3 – In which homework doesn't get done and reading is a pain**

 _During the 15_ _th_ _century, European authorities became alarmed by the number of people rejecting the Christian religion. They believed they were assisting the devil..._

No, this wasn't what he was looking for.

 _Outbreaks of witchcraft hysteria, with subsequent mass executions, began to appear in the early 1500s. The reformation divided Europe between protestants and those loyal to the Pope, but both sects took the crime of witchcraft seriously._

And this wasn't it either. Why had he borrowed this book again?

 _The last witch – or someone muggles thought to be a witch – to be executed in England was Temperance Lloyd in 1682. Her case was later investigated by sir Francis North, a Chief Justice and convinced critic of..._

Did Binns even read these things or could he get away with not presenting it? Of course, Hermione would probably have his hide if he didn't do his homework.

 _The most well-known witch hunt is probably that of Salem, a village in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The Salem witch trials resulted in the execution of nineteen innocent muggles, men and women alike, between June and October 1692. Trouble in the Puritan community began when a doctor concluded that two young girls experiencing strange maladies were in reality victims of witchcraft. The girls corroborated his diagnosis and accused a number of locals of witchcraft. Most of them were women, but there were also several men and even a four-year-old child._

And talking about Hermione, she'd probably have a lot of interesting things to say about witch-hunts, beginning with just how ignorant people could get.

He slammed his book shut with an annoyed huff. Unlike his studious friend, he didn't know where to begin with the essay apart from the small paragraph he had written on the night of his birthday over a week before.

Mostly, though, he wasn't in the mood. It was a warm, sunny day and Diagon Alley was bustling with activity, but wasn't so crowded that he had had trouble moving around. He didn't want to be stuck doing his homework when he could instead go back to gazing adoringly at the Firebolt. It was a pity he couldn't afford it.

"Still having trouble with that essay?"

Harry lifted his gaze from his half-empty parchment and smiled at Florean Fortesque. "A bit." he admitted. "But the book you lent me has helped loads."

Florean's satisfied grin made him feel considerably better about his white lie. "Good. How about you take a break then?"

Before Harry could answer – and let's be honest, he wasn't going to deny himself a few minutes away from homework – the man pushed a gigantic cup of ice-cream under his nose. A grin split his face. "Thanks, Florean."

"Don't mention it. Also," he nodded at someone on the other side of the patio, "someone is here to see you."

Harry turned around and his eyes met those of Albus Dumbledore. His mouth opened in surprise and he almost tripped on his own two feet in his haste to get up.

"Professor? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Harry." The older wizard smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I find you well."

Harry blushed to the root of his hair, suddenly realising his initial reaction might have been less than welcoming. "Oh, right, good-morning. And sorry."

Dumbledore waved the apology away. "Nothing to be sorry for, my boy." He took the chair in front of Harry's with a sigh. "Florean, would you mind bringing me one of your sundaes?"

The man nodded and walked away, stopping here and there to take other orders. Harry watched him absent-mindedly until Dumbledore cleared his throat, reclaiming his attention.

"Now Harry, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here?"

"Er, well, yes." Harry retook his seat and moved his half-finished essay to the side, covering it with Florean's book. His Headmaster did _not_ need to see his pitiful attempts at completing his homework. "Does – does it have something to do with Aunt Marge? Because I didn't do it on purpose, professor!" he hastily reassured. "It just sort of happened."

Dumbledore chuckled warmly. "My dear boy, Minister Fudge already told me everything about what happened to your aunt. I wouldn't have bothered you during your well deserved holydays for a case of accidental magic, no matter how phenomenal." He winked conspiratorially.

Harry smiled back at him, feeling infinitely lighter. "You're not bothering me, professor." Then something the old man had said sparked his curiosity and the doubts he had repressed since the night of his disastrous escape from the Dursleys came back to haunt him. "But, professor, you said you wouldn't have come for a simple case of accidental magic, but then why did the Minister? I don't think he takes interest in every run-away student."

"Not usually, no. But these are dangerous times, Harry. Especially for you."

The Headmaster's unrelenting gaze made him squirm and wish he could be anywhere else, but he simply _had to_ ask, "Because of Sirius Black?"

Just pronouncing the convict's name earned him a sharp glare from an older couple passing by.

Dumbledore leaned back against his chair. "Harry, the situation is more complicated than you think. I –" he visibly hesitated, seemingly at war with himself. When he spoke again, he looked to the side, as if unable to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm not here to talk about Black. There is something else you must know."

Harry would probably have kept pestering him for an explanation if not for the final note in his tone.

"What's more important than an escaped Voldemort's supporter?"

It came out snappier than he had meant it to.

Dumbledore didn't seem to mind, though. His smile came back full force. "Your family, of course!"

Harry frowned. "The Dursleys? I'd say they are not pleased with me right now."

"No, they probably aren't." Dumbledore admitted. "But it's not them I was talking about. At least not your uncle and cousin. I'm here to discuss your aunt's family. Your mother's."

Florean reappeared at their table with a strawberry and chocolate sundae, halting their conversation. "Here you go, professor."

Dumbledore positively beamed at it. "Thank you, Florean. It looks delicious."

The man tipped his head in thanks before leaving once more. Harry waited until he was out of ear-shot before asking, "My mom's family? I thought they were all dead except Aunt Petunia."

And just his luck. The only relative he had left just happened to be as devoid of sympathy for his situation as the Sahara was of water.

"So did I." Conceded Dumbledore between spoonfuls of ice-cream. He tilted his head towards Harry's own cup. "You should eat it before it melts."

"Oh. Sure." Harry scrambled to grab his spoon. "So..." he let the word hang, waiting for Dumbledore to fill the silence.

"A few days ago, a former student of mine came to visit me. At the time of your parents' death, I had asked him to track down any remaining family of Lily's for security reasons."

"Security reasons?"

"I was worried what remained of Voldemort's army might've targeted them to get to you."

That made sense. But then, why had Dumbledore sent him to live with Aunt Petunia and her family? As his mom's sister, she would've been a prime target for any dark wizard seeking revenge.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore said, "There are powerful wards around your aunt's house, Harry. I made sure you were well protected."

Harry blushed. "Er, of course. I knew that."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, but he didn't comment on his blunder, for which he was grateful. "My old student, though a usually attentive researcher, lost a rather important missive from the General Register Office of London. Understand this, Harry," he continued earnestly, "it was soon after Voldemort's fall. Those were busy days. Mr Blackwood did not mean to cause you grief."

"Of course." Assured Harry. "I mean, whatever happened, I wasn't going to blame him."

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Sometimes I think you're too forgiving for your own good, my boy."

He probably was. But then again, whatever this Blackwood had done – and Harry was beginning to have an inkling – he doubted had been done on purpose. Blaming him wouldn't solve anything.

"What did it say? The letter?" he asked.

The old professor grimaced slightly, as if somehow displeased by the existence of the missive. "It would seem your grandparents had three daughters and not two like we all thought."

"Oh." _Oh._ "Wait a moment – you're saying mom had another sister? But then why–why didn't Aunt Petunia ever say anything?" a terrible suspicion took hold of his mind. But, he reasoned, if it was true Dumbledore wouldn't have come all the way to Diagon Alley just to give him the bad news, right? He would've sent a letter or, better yet, he wouldn't have said anything at all to spare him the disappointment. "Is she dead?"

"No, no. She's very much alive. In fact, I saw her just yesterday."

Harry drew a relieved sigh. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath.

"Her name is Sally and she's the youngest of the Evans sisters. When your grandparents died in a plane crash..."

He hadn't known that. Then again, he was pretty sure he had never heard Aunt Petunia talk about her family if not for her outburst on the night Hagrid had introduced him to the wizarding world.

"...she was only thirteen. She went to live in the States with a maternal uncle. That's the reason we never found out about her before this week."

It was strange to think he had a relative living so far away. Harry had never even set foot outside of Great Britain. He had to rein in his mind before it started wandering down out of reach paths and daydreaming about living in foreign countries, far away from the Dursleys.

"That still doesn't explain why Aunt Petunia never said anything or why she and Sally never visited each-other."

Though, thinking about it, it was quite possible he had escaped a close encounter with one more Aunt Marge. With his luck, Sally would be more like Aunt Petunia than his mom.

"I was quite curious about that point too, I admit." Dumbledore pushed his empty cup from one hand to the other. It skidded smoothly over the rough wooden table, leading Harry to believe the old wizard was using subtle magic to amuse himself. "Sally explained to me that she was never close to Petunia."

Harry snorted. That was hardly surprising: he doubted Aunt Petunia had ever managed to be close to anyone with even a sliver of an independent personality. She certainly hadn't had anything in common with his mom.

"They only had sporadic contacts after Sally's move and they never saw each-other again."

"What about my mom? Were they close?"

Dumbledore nodded. "At least they were before your grandparents' death. Unlike your aunt Petunia, Sally didn't resent your mother for her magical powers and –"

"Wait!" Harry sat up straighter in his chair, feeling as if he had just been electrocuted. "Aunt Petunia resented my mom? I thought she considered all of us... _freaks_!"

Dumbledore didn't comment on the Dursleys' favoured insult, but his eyes darkened, reminding Harry that the jovial old man in front of him was the only one Voldemort had once feared.

"Bear in mind, Harry, jealousy is a powerful and dangerous emotion. It can corrupt people and turn them into something they are not." He sighed. "Yes, your aunt was jealous of your mother and that soured their relationship."

He didn't know what to think. On one hand, it explained his aunt's behaviour with him better than simple bigotry; on the other, it made everything considerably worse. She had turned her back on her sister – and on her sister's whole family – only because she had been born with something Petunia had wanted too.

"This didn't happen with Sally, who didn't care that one of her sisters had been gifted with magical powers. I got the impression she is a rather open-minded and accepting woman."

Harry had always considered himself pretty accepting of others too, so that was something they had in common, which was a good thing. Maybe she wasn't another Aunt Marge, after all.

"Sally also told me she and Lily used to share a love for books and that your mother taught her how to read when she was a child."

And that was something they did _not_ have in common. But it was nice to know his mother had had a good relationship with her younger sister. It had always made him sad to think that she hadn't had anyone outside of his dad and a sister who spurned her affection.

There was only one thought that gave him pause and he voiced it. "But if they were so close, why didn't she –" _care to know what had happened to me?_ Harry couldn't finish the question, but judging from Dumbledore's sad gaze, he had known exactly what he had been about to say.

"Sally didn't know you were alive, Harry. She thought you had died with your parents and Petunia didn't see fit to let her know otherwise."

Of course, he thought bitterly, Aunt Petunia was apparently determined to ruin things for everyone else. Letting her own sister think their nephew was dead had to be a new personal low.

It made sense, though. Aunt Petunia had never told him (and maybe even Dudley) about her other sister, so why would she tell Sally about him?

"What happened after their parents died, professor?" he asked, deciding it was time for a change of topic. "You said they used to be close _before_ their death."

"Well, they were both young at the time. As I already told you, Sally was roughly your age while Lily was fifteen."

"Where did she go to live?" Harry asked before Dumbledore could go on. It might've been rude, but he rarely had the opportunity to find out more about his parents. He wasn't going to waste it by being silent.

The old man's eyes twinkled knowingly. "She became a ward of the state. She spent the majority of her time at Hogwarts, of course, but she stayed at a care home during the summer until she turned seventeen. Then she got her own apartment and a year later, after graduation, she and your father got married."

"Oh. Okay."

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "May I go on?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah. Sure."

"Neither of them had the means to visit each-other and so they kept in contact as best as they could. Phone calls when Lily wasn't at Hogwarts and the sporadic letter, mostly through muggle means as few owls would survive a flight all the way to the States.

"Sally came back to Britain only once, for your parents' wedding. Lily, on the other hand, never visited her in New York. I suspect because of the war against Voldemort which, unfortunately, occupied our thoughts entirely back then."

"She never saw me then?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Your mother told her she was pregnant, but she never visited. In fact, Sally herself got pregnant around the same time and could not travel."

Harry startled. He wasn't expecting that. "Pregnant? But wasn't she only eighteen at the time?"

"She was. I didn't ask because it would've been rude, but I suspect she and her child's father had a fling more than a real relationship. I don't know if he's in their life now, but I'm fairly sure she brought her son up on her own."

There it was – the reason Aunt Petunia never talked about her remaining sister. Her hatred for her middle sister might've been fostered by jealousy, but she was still a bigot through and through and in her mind being a single mother had to be little better than being a witch. He still vividly remembered the viciousness she and a few of their neighbours had reserved for a girl who had gotten pregnant out of wed-lock even though it had happened when he was still a child. Harry couldn't imagine she'd have treated Sally or her son any better.

"I've got another cousin my age then?" Dumbledore simply nodded, apparently waiting for his reaction. He honestly didn't know what to think. "Did–did you meet him too?"

"Yes. His name is Perseus, though he goes by Percy."

Harry snorted under his breath. He'd find himself a nickname too if his parents had named him something as pretentious as 'Perseus'. It was the sort of name he'd expect from a stuck-up pureblood, just like 'Draco'. Of course, 'Percy' reminded him uncomfortably of Ron's older brother, which wasn't much better, all things considered. Merlin, he hoped this new cousin was _nothing_ like Percy Weasley. He had enough crappy relatives to last him several lifetimes.

"He'll turn thirteen in a few days, on the eighteen of August. He seems like a good kid from the little I saw." Dumbledore's lips quirked up, "though a bit of a trouble-maker. He has a penchant for getting expelled from school. He hasn't yet managed to stay in one for more than a year."

Harry's eyes widened. How did that equate to being a good kid? Maybe it was a bit hypocritical of him as he and his friends had gotten in trouble every year they had been at Hogwarts, but they had done it only to stop Voldemort and certainly not for fun. Somehow he doubted his muggle cousin had such a good excuse for getting expelled.

"What did he do? I don't think a simple prank would get someone expelled." Otherwise, the twins would've been kicked out ages ago.

"Ah, your cousin is quite creative when it comes to breaking school rules. I didn't talk to him about it, but I saw his records. At his last school, he called one of his teachers, and I quote, 'an old sot'."

Harry snorted in laughter.

"The year before that he...shot a cannon at the school bus during a visit at an historical site."

That was less fun and more dangerous. He hoped no one had gotten hurt.

"And once he even managed to drop his classmates into a pool full of sharks."

Forget expelled – how the hell hadn't he gotten arrested? He was even more of a trouble magnet than Harry himself and that was saying something.

"I can see what you mean by 'creative'" he commented wryly.

"Don't be too hasty in your judgement, Harry." Dumbledore admonished lightly. "Wait until you've actually met him. He may surprise you."

The old man cheerfully waved at a bunch of kids around Ginny's age strolling past. They gaped at him, their wide eyes flitting between the Headmaster and Harry, before hesitantly waving back.

"And _when_ am I going to meet them?" he asked.

Dumbledore moved his gaze back on him and, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the visibly relieved children make a run for it. Harry smiled: finding oneself face to face with none other than Albus Dumbledore could be shocking, no matter how approachable the old professor made himself seem.

"Soon. Sooner than you think, I dare say. In fact, I was hoping you'd come to New York with me the day after tomorrow."

Harry almost fell from his chair. "What?! But – I thought – I mean – "

"You thought you'd have more time to prepare?" Dumbledore finished for him.

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Alas, we cannot afford to wait. You see Harry, your cousin happens to be a wizard just like you."

His breath hitched in his throat. "He what? He can't be!" realizing how that must have sounded, he hurried to add, "He's thirteen. Shouldn't he already be attending a school of magic? Or do things work differently in the States?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Children begin their magical education at eleven in North America, just like us, but they have only two schools and one of them admits only girls. It's not uncommon for a muggle-born like your cousin not to be detected by the authorities."

Harry thought that sounded downright terrifying. If nor for Hogwarts, he would still be stuck with the Dursleys. He couldn't think of anything he wanted less in the world.

"Why doesn't that happen in Great Britain too? We only have Hogwarts."

Dumbledore chuckled heartily. "My dear boy, what gave you this idea?" Harry stared uncomprehendingly at him, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. "There are actually a number of minor schools throughout all of Great Britain and Ireland. Hogwarts is the best in the United Kingdom and among the best in Europe, of course, but the rest of them aren't boarding schools and some parents just prefer keeping their children close."

He was fairly sure his face was on fire. "I didn't know that."

The old professor winked at him. "Then may I suggest a spot of research? I'm sure Miss Granger would be glad to join you."

He was sure Hermione already knew everything there was to be known about the schooling system of magical Britain. She would never have made such a gaffe. He resolved to never tell her.

"So, Percy?" he prompted, eager to leave this embarrassing part of the conversation behind him.

"Percy never suspected he could be different from most of his peers and neither did Sally. They were quite surprised when I told them. I also offered him a place at Hogwarts."

His eyes snapped up. "And...what did he say?"

"He didn't answer. Sally was understandably reticent about sending her son so far away to school and they needed time to think and talk about it among themselves. That's actually why we're going back in a few days. If Percy decides to join us at Hogwarts, he'll need to be tutored for the few weeks left before the school year begins."

Harry wasn't sure how that made him feel.

On one hand, he was disappointed. He kind of liked the idea of having a relative at Hogwarts with him. He guessed that was how Ron and his siblings felt – sure, they could annoy each-other every once in a while, but they had each-other's back in dire situations, even Percy, and they were never really alone. It was something he had always envied his best-friend, even if Ron seemed too hung-up on his fame to realise it. On the other hand, he didn't know Percy (Jackson, not Weasley. They'd have to find different nicknames if they wanted to avoid headaches.) and he wasn't sure he liked what he had heard so far, no matter what Dumbledore said about not judging. He was also slightly worried about his relationship with Ron and Hermione. Percy wouldn't know anyone else at Hogwarts and he would of course look at him for companionship, at least during the first weeks of his stay. He clearly remembered Ron trying to do the same and the twins ditching him on the train. He didn't know if his friends, who tended to be a bit territorial, would accept him though, and he didn't want Percy coming between them, no matter how irrational. They might share the same blood, but they weren't family, not yet at least.

Maybe it would be better if he decided to attend a school in the states, after all. They could always have a long distance relationship and see each-other only every once in a while. It might work better for them in the long run.

"Harry..." Dumbledore's voice called his attention back on the conversation, "I know this is a lot to take in, but I'd appreciate it if you could try to...sway their decision towards Hogwarts in the event of a refusal."

Harry frowned deeply. There went his realization. "Why? He's no different than any other wizard."

Dumbledore's eyes closed for a moment and Harry felt a surge of pity. The old man appeared more exhausted than he had ever seen him and that was counting those months when the Slytherin monster had been roaming the castle.

"I told you I had asked Mr Blackwood to track down your mother's family for security reasons. Those same reasons persist to date, I fear, even if most of us wrongly assume there is nothing left to worry about."

Harry glanced surreptitiously at the happy families and laughing kids sitting at the tables around them and at the colourful crowd walking along Diagon Alley. They all smiled and talked and shopped as if they didn't have a care in the world. It seemed as if the magical community had already gotten over Voldemort and his reign of terror. Worse, it had _forgotten_ about him. They all seemed to think his parents' often overlooked sacrifice had been enough to stop him permanently. But Harry knew better and so did Dumbledore. They had seen what remained of Voldemort with their own eyes.

"Wouldn't he be safer in the States then?"

"I cannot protect him over there." Dumbledore admitted. "All I could do for Sally was put up wards around their apartment, but I can offer more to Percy." He peered at Harry piercingly over his half-moon glasses and Harry resisted the urge to fidget. "And I'm asking you to help me do that."

Harry's left eye twitched of its own volition. He didn't appreciate being put in a corner, but he saw no way out. If he refused to help, he'd come across as childish and selfish even if he had no real obligation towards Percy. And really, he didn't like the idea of convincing him to attend Hogwarts without first getting to know him at least a little bit.

His lips tightened. Still, they _were_ family.

He sighed. "Ok. I'll see what I can do. But I'm not good at being convincing." He cautioned.

Dumbledore beamed, appearing entirely too unconcerned for Harry's tastes. "Don't worry about it, my boy. I'm sure you'll do perfectly. And who knows? They may not need convincing, after all."

Harry wasn't feeling too hopeful on that point. Right now, he just prayed Sally and Percy were nothing like the Dursleys.

"When are we leaving?"

"I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron at 1.30 p.m. on Thursday. Since New York is five hours behind, we should get there around nine in the morning." He winked at Harry. "Ms Jackson has promised us breakfast."

He couldn't wait.

/

/

 _"_ _Young Percy, then. Well, it would seem you're a wizard. Congratulations."_

 _For a moment, Percy couldn't breathe. His mom stiffened next to him and he swore he heard her curse under her breath._

 _"_ _You're joking." He choked out. He whirled around to face his mom. "He's joking, isn't he?"_

 _"_ _I don't think he is joking." She said._

 _"_ _I'm not, I assure you. I know this is a lot to take in and you weren't expecting it, but learning magic is your birth right and I would be ecstatic to welcome you at Hogwarts."_

 _His mom's only reaction was a sharp intake of breath._

 _"_ _I – what? Hogwarts as in England? Aren't there schools of magic in the US?"_

 _"_ _There are, of course, and I know Hogwarts is far from your home, but I thought you'd like to be with your cousin."_

 _"_ _A cousin he doesn't even know." His mom reminded Dumbledore, her voice uncharacteristically sharp. She hid her face in her hands. "And England is_ too _far."_

 _Percy put his arm around her. "We'll think about it, okay? But we need time."_

"Percy?"

 _"_ _Understandable." Dumbledore said. "In the meantime, though, I'd like for you to have this." From the folds of his robes, he extracted a thick leather-bound book. It was even heavier than it looked._

"Percy. You need to wake up."

 _"_ _It explains a few more things about the magical world and magic in general. You'll find it useful, even if you decide not to attend Hogwarts."_

 _Percy thanked him, choosing not to mention his dyslexia._

 _"_ _And Percy –"_

"Really, Percy. You can't sleep until lunch."

Percy woke up at once, seamlessly passing from dream to reality.

His mom was smiling down at him. "Good-morning, sleepyhead. Thought I'd have to shoot a cannon to wake you up."

Percy whined like a kicked puppy. "What time is it?" he asked with sleep-roughened voice. He noticed she was wearing an elegant blue dress and light make-up. "And where are you going?"

"It's past ten and I've got that job interview at eleven."

Percy groaned. Right, he remembered his mom had told him about her interview at a library a few days earlier. She would be going to college in the fall and she wanted a better job than the one at the candy shop. He was glad she was putting her life back on track, even if it meant saying goodbye to all those free samples.

"Why did you let me sleep so late?" he pushed the sheet binding his chest down with one hand. He felt sweaty and frankly gross.

She smiled again, but it looked rather brittle. "I thought you'd need rest after yesterday."

Yesterday. Percy frowned. What...? At once memories flooded his brain. _'You're a wizard.'_

"Oh. Right. Dumbledore." An honest-to-Gods wizard, sporting a white beard long enough to make Merlin himself jealous and dressed in robes to boot, had visited them. Percy wouldn't have believed any of it if not for everything that had happened that summer.

Somehow, the fact that his mom had two sisters she had never talked about was the more unbelievable thing he had heard yesterday.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She shrugged. "As well as was to be expected."

Percy took her hand and squeezed lightly. "I know we told Dumbledore we'd think about it, but I really have no interest in going to Pigwarts."

"Hogwarts." His mom corrected, looking amused.

"Whatever. I could go to a school here in the States. Or not go at all. I don't need magic. Being a demigod is more than enough."

She shook her head. "I remember how happy Lily was to be learning magic. I cannot deprive you of that." She sighed. "I need to go now or I'll be late. We'll talk about it more when I get back." She got up from his bed-side. "Take a shower. You stink."

Percy stuck out his tongue, because he was just so mature.

His mom laughed. "And at least try to read that book." She added, eyeing the tome in question with distaste. It was still lying on the floor where Percy had carelessly thrown it before going to sleep.

He grimaced. "It gives me a headache."

"I know, honey." His mom kissed him on the forehead, cupping his cheek, and then she left.

Percy heard her grab her key from the bowl a few seconds later, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.

With a moan, and resisting the urge to just go back to sleep and forget his problems, he rolled out from under the covers, almost slipping on the sheet he had discarded earlier.

He trudged to the bathroom, grabbing the first clean shirt he could find and a pair of sweatpants on his way out.

His head was buzzing uncomfortably and his limbs were heavy, but he felt better as soon as he got under the spray of water. It always had that effect on him, which was rather handy.

He got out a few minutes later, though he wouldn't have minded staying in there for an hour minimum, and he went to get the cursed book. He contemplated the idea of tidying up his room a bit, but he discarded it after only a moment.

He settled himself in the living room, half lying on the couch, and opened the book.

He had tried reading it the night before after Dumbledore had left, but he had accomplished nothing if not giving himself an headache. Who were the idiots who had decided it was a good idea to write in parchments of all things instead of using sensible paper, anyway? Because Percy was going to have to find them and send them to the Underworld himself. See if they regretted it after a century in Hades' loving care.

He had been trying to decipher the first chapter for almost an hour with limited success when the doorbell rang. Glad for the distraction, he threw the book to the side and fairly bounced to the door. Sitting still for so long when you were ADHD was rarely a good idea.

He opened the door without checking, thinking it was one of their neighbours in need of something, but his smile slipped from his face as soon as he saw who was waiting on the other side.

His dad. His _dad_ , the freaking God of the Sea, had just rung their doorbell.

His jaw almost unhinged from the shock.

"Hello, Perseus." He said. The skin around his eyes crinkled in a smile. "I find you well."

Percy gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. Which, considering who he was talking to, was painfully fitting. He felt so out of sort he didn't even remind him _not to call him Perseus, damn it._

Poseidon glanced inside the apartment over Percy's shoulders. "You're home alone."

It didn't sound like a question, but Percy nodded all the same, and rather dumbly in his opinion.

Poseidon smiled again, this time a bit hesitatingly. "May I come in?"

Percy attempted to talk, but his vocal cords refused to cooperate and all that came out was a weird choking sound, like a cat being strangled to death. He gave up and just stepped aside to let him in.

It was strange seeing the god in his living room. He looked terribly out of place, even in his human guise. When he was a child, he had wished innumerable times for his dad to come back and be with them, but now that he was there, Percy couldn't imagine him anywhere else than on his throne on Olympus. It was disconcerting.

Poseidon turned on himself, studying the décor. "It's a nice place." He commented after a moment of contemplation. He sat on the couch. "Much better than the last one."

"You never visited our last apartment." Percy blurted out accusingly. He clamped his mouth shut. Of course it started working again when he had no control over it.

Poseidon didn't appear offended by the insinuation. "I did. You just never knew it."

Percy's right hand clenched into a fist so tight his nails cut bloody half-moons in his palm. Knowing that Poseidon had looked in on them, seen how Smelly Gabe treated him and, most importantly, his mom and done absolutely nothing about it made his repressed fury threaten to spiral out of control.

Poseidon sighed. "I made you angry."

Percy bit his lip to keep the words from tumbling out. He didn't feel like testing the god's patience, not after Poseidon had candidly admitted only weeks before it would've been better if he was never born.

"You have every right to be." Poseidon continued, looking pained by the admission. "I know I –"

"Why are you here?" Percy interrupted, tired of his beating around the bush. So much for keeping his mouth shut.

It was incredibly rude and Percy could see Poseidon thought the same by the way the corners of his mouth turned down and his face assumed a severe look. The slight crinkles around his eyes looked more pronounced than before.

Percy wondered if he had gone too far and incineration by angry god was in his near future. But he owned _nothing_ to Poseidon and he refused to feel intimidated. Really, the trembling in his hands was rage, not fear.

After a few seconds of suffocating silence, the skin around Poseidon's eyes relaxed once again and his gaze softened considerably.

"You should never talk that way to any other god, Perseus." He cautioned lightly, almost absent-mindedly. "They might not be forgiving."

Was that a threat? Percy pushed it to the back of his mind for future contemplation. "It's Percy.", was the only thing he said.

Poseidon tilted his head to the side. The movement felt strangely familiar to Percy and with a start, he realized it was because he always did it too when deciding whether to say what was on his mind.

"Perseus is a strong name. Heroic. Your mother gave it to you for that reason."

 _But you're not a hero,_ the deepest, more insecure part of his mind whispered tauntingly, _you're an inconvenience._

He swallowed loudly.

Faced with his continued and stubborn silence, Poseidon finally relented, "Percy, then."

A single frown line had appeared between his eyes and Percy wondered if the god had some inkling as to what was going through his mind.

"Won't you sit down?" he asked. "I wished to talk to you about the offer you received yesterday."

Oh, that. Joy.

He hurried to retake the seat he had abandoned a few minutes earlier, figuring he'd better stay in Poseidon's good graces for the time being, all the while wondering how the god had even known about Dumbledore's visit. Was he stalking them?

"You know about the wizarding world?"

Poseidon's raised eyebrow was enough to convey what he thought of his question. _Did you really just ask that?_ It seemed to say.

"Of course you do." Percy mumbled, feeling dumber by the second.

"There is little we don't know. The wizarding world is actually Hecate's pride and joy."

"Hecate..." Percy murmured to himself, hoping to jolt his memory. Nothing came to mind.

"She's the goddess of Magic and Crossroads." Poseidon explained. He didn't seem surprised by his ignorance of the Greek world. Annabeth was right, Percy reflected: he needed to study more if he wanted to survive long enough to get into high-school. "She's also in charge of maintaining the Mist."

Right. Hadn't he thought about her just yesterday when talking to Dumbledore?

Poseidon leaned forward on his seat. "I don't expect you to know everything, Percy. You didn't even find out about us until this summer."

How did he keep getting into his head?

"Can you read thoughts?"

He cringed and inwardly cursed his nonexistent brain to mouth filters. Note to self: Annabeth was _always_ right – his head was full of kelp.

Poseidon snorted, which was so... _ungodly_ Percy did a double take. He didn't even think Gods could produce such human sounds.

"I don't need to, Percy. They're clearly written all over your face." He seemed to consider something before adding, "And we're not that different, you and I."

His foul mood came back full force.

Poseidon knew nothing about him. They had seen each-other a grand total of two times in all his life and the only conversation they had ever had – if it could be called such – had certainly not been enough for the god to ascertain whether they were alike or not.

He didn't say any of that out-loud, though, because he was pretty sure he was fresh out of get-out-of-jail-free cards with Poseidon. He obviously didn't hide his feelings on the matter all that well judging from Poseidon's disappointed expression.

"Have you thought about what you want to do?"

Percy shrugged. "Some. I don't really want to move to England."

"You'd need to stay there only during the school year, not move permanently."

Percy stared at him incredulously. "Right, only nine months out of twelve. Nothing, really. And during the summer I'd be at Camp. Mom would always be alone."

Poseidon looked away at the mention of his mom. Once again, Percy noticed the same weird emotion crossing his face, a mix of fondness and loss. He wondered what it meant. Did Poseidon still feel something for his mom, despite the forbidden nature of their relationship?

"Your mother is a strong woman." He said at last, as if those few words explained everything.

Percy glared. "That doesn't mean she should be alone."

"I didn't say that. But I worry about your safety and so does Sally."

Percy rolled his eyes. Poseidon had indirectly sent him on a dangerous quest to the Underworld to clear his name and now he worried about his safety? If there was one thing he had learned during his stay at Camp Half-Blood, it was that most of the time children like them existed solely for the purpose of running their parents' over-glorified errands, no matter how risky they turned out to be.

"What has my safety got to do with that? All of Olympus knows about your wrongdoing by now." Did that sound catty? Perhaps he was just a bit irritated by Poseidon's casual dismissal of his existence, despite having told his friends he had made his peace with it.

The god leaned forward all of a sudden, almost pushing himself out of his seat, and his hand made a strange aborted movement, as if he had been about to put it on Percy's shoulder before thinking better of it.

There was a moment of silence in which Percy stared wide-eyed at Poseidon's hand, part of him hoping to see it complete its descending motion, the other dreading it, while Poseidon himself kept his eyes firmly fixed on Percy's face.

The god was the one to break the stasis. He pulled his hand back. "Don't call yourself a wrongdoing."

 _The way you do?_ Percy bit his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood. He had no wish to get into that argument with the god. Embarrassingly enough, he felt a burning behind his eyelids.

"I still don't get what Hogwarts has to do with my safety." He settled for saying.

Poseidon hesitated for a moment. "Percy, maybe with should talk about–" he snapped his mouth shut when Percy crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. He suspected that, together with his set jaw, was a dead give-away to his feelings on the matter.

The god's shoulders slumped the slightest bit. Percy would have missed it if he hadn't been surreptitiously studying him out of the corner of his eye.

"Maybe another day, then." Poseidon smiled, but it looked strained. Percy couldn't tell if he was more frustrated or annoyed. "You're right to say all of Olympus knows about you and that some are not happy about your existence, but you've proven yourself by rescuing Zeus' master bolt. No one would dare attack you after that. And they know hurting you would mean war from me."

Percy tentatively met his eyes. Did that mean he cared about his life or only about his worth as a tool? The god winked at him and Percy noticed not for the first time just how similar their eyes were. It was like staring into a mirror to the future.

"To be honest, Percy, going to Hogwarts is perhaps more about your happiness than your safety."

Percy frowned. "I'm happy in New York. Everything I know is here."

"But you're not happy at school." Poseidon said gently, probably worried that the reminder of his less than stellar academic career would make him clam up again. "I know of your troubles. They're common to every demigod and a child of the Big Three is especially, ah, accident prone, shall we say."

"Just my luck." Percy mumbled darkly.

Poseidon grinned, revealing dimples on his cheeks that mirrored Percy's. It was uncanny how many resemblances he could find between the two of them. "Sorry. At a school of magic, what would be perceived as strangeness by mortals is seen as nothing more than one more aspect of teaching magical children. They might raise an eyebrow at it, but you wouldn't be expelled for something like an exploding classroom."

"I never exploded a classroom!" Percy protested hotly.

"Well, son, I have faith in your ability to cause destruction."

Percy had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. His facial muscles gave a spasm and he was pretty sure his mouth twisted into an unnatural grimace. "Very funny."

"I _am_ the God of Natural Disasters, among other things." He shrugged as if to say _'what did you expect?'_. "It was almost a given you would inherit some of my penchant for destruction."

"Great. Thank you, really." He commented dryly.

"You're welcome. As I was saying, magical teachers are generally more open-minded and less likely to punish you if you lose control of your powers, even if they will not realise their exact origin. Of course, you'll still have to keep your anger in check , if you can manage it."

Percy blushed tomato red. Why did everyone keep implying he had anger management problems? Just because he had gotten into a fight or two! Or twenty... so, perhaps he wasn't the best at keeping his rage under control, but he didn't need the constant reminder.

"Don't worry. It's a family thing." Poseidon reassured him disinterestedly. "You'll also have an easier time making friends. Probably."

The 'unless you punch them all in the face' was implicit this time around apparently. Geez, Dad, he thought, thanks for the trust. It was nice to know he was not the only one without brain to mouth filters.

"Don't get me wrong – the magical world is not without flaws, far from it. They can be as judgemental and petty as non magical mortals and they lack a certain...logic, if you will. Athena is not overly fond of them." He grinned. "You should hear her rants."

"Better not." Percy said hurriedly. He didn't think Athena would be 'overly fond' of him either from what Annabeth had said.

Poseidon's eyes glinted with humour, but he let the matter rest. "The old man has told you some of this, I trust?"

It took Percy a moment to realise he was referring to Dumbledore. "Yeah. About Voldetort and such."

Poseidon made a choking sound. "Voldemort, Percy."

"Yeah, him. Oh, and he also gave me a book." He got on his knees on the couch and leaned over the back of it, the upper half of his body hanging in the air, to recuperate the book from where he had let it fall.

Once he resumed a dignified position (meaning: without his butt up in the air.), he found Poseidon staring at him with a raised eyebrow, a smile he'd have tentatively called fond stretching his lips.

His cheeks coloured lightly. Was there a seating protocol to respect when in the presence of a god? Probably.

He showed Poseidon the heavy tome. "I can't read it, though. Dyslexia is a pain."

The god put out a hand, motioning with two fingers. Percy realized belatedly that he wanted to see the book. He offered it to him.

"It seems to have the more...salient points." He commented after a minute of distractedly thumbing through the pages.

He closed the book, splaying a hand over the cover. Percy thought he saw the tome quiver infinitesimally as if crossed by a wave of energy. "What did you do?"

Poseidon smirked and opened the book near the middle. Percy's brain took a moment to understand what his eyes were showing him. He gaped. "What – is that –?"

"Ancient Greek." The god confirmed. "I thought I could make things easier for you. I also wanted to give you this." He produced a piece of paper from the pocket of his Bermuda and passed it over to Percy.

He opened it dubiously. Written on it was a single Greek word. Percy recognized it as the one meaning 'to translate'. He cocked his head to the side. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"You'll just need to write it down at the beginning of any book for it to be translated to Ancient Greek."

Percy stared at him open-mouthed. "I suffered through years of dyslexia when I could've just used this... _trick_?" he spluttered. Never mind that he hadn't even known something like magic was possible three months ago. "Why doesn't every demigod use it?"

"It's powered by magic, Percy." Poseidon explained not all too patiently. "With the exception of children of Hecate, demigods are not able to use it. You can because you're a wizard too."

"Oh." Percy blushed lightly. "That makes sense."

Poseidon smiled. "Glad you think so. Is there anything else you'd like to know? I can't stay much longer."

Percy tried not to feel disappointed. Just when they were beginning to have a semblance of a normal conversation his dad had to leave again. "Well, yeah. Say I get why a magical school is a good idea. Why not one in the US? Why Hogwarts?"

The god sighed. "Magical schooling in the US is a relatively new thing." Meaning, new for someone as old as dirt like him and downright ancient for Percy. "There is only one school open to both boys and girls and it's in California. Near Los Angeles, in fact."

Realization dawned on Percy. LA, California in general, was Hades' turf. While the God of the Dead might not despise him anymore, he certainly was not in his good graces either. Uncle dearest would never allow him to live so near his realm without serious repercussions.

Poseidon effectively deduced where his thoughts had taken him. "It's not only because of my brother." He said. "Other dangers lurk in the west."

"What kind of dangers?" Percy asked curiously. Poseidon wouldn't have warned him if it was simple monsters – those were everywhere.

Poseidon grimaced. "Mount Otris. In the old days, it used to be the tallest mountain in Greece and the Titans' central of power, just as Olympus is ours. It moved to San Francisco when we arrived in America."

Percy could see he wasn't saying everything, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't need to be a child of Athena to know that insisting would get him nowhere. Gods didn't share information just because you asked. He'd talk to Annabeth and Grover (if he managed to contact him). They were bound to know more than him about whatever Poseidon was hiding since they had been living in the Greek world far longer than him.

"You really think it'd be better for me in a magical school?" he asked, already knowing what the God's answer would be.

As he expected, Poseidon nodded. "And I think your mother agrees with me, even though she may not want to admit it."

Percy scowled. "You can't blame her. She's just worried. She's always been there to protect me."

"She shouldn't have had to."

He felt his insides freeze. "What's that supposed to mean?" he swore on Olympus, if this was a re-enactment of his 'you shouldn't have been born' speech he was going to do something monumentally stupid.

For once, Poseidon didn't seem to recognize the dangerous waters he was wading into (Ah, the irony!). "I told her to send you to Camp as soon as monsters started sniffing you out, but did she listen? Of course not." Even though his voice maintained its steady rhythm, Percy could tell he was warming up to his tirade. It was as if he had kept it silent for years and he now couldn't wait to get it off of his chest. "She wouldn't have had to marry Ugliano and neither of you would've had to suffer at the hands of that despicable beast if she had just cut the damn umbilical cord and –"

"Don't talk about Mom that way!" Percy snarled, tired of listening to him bad-mouthing the one person who had sacrificed everything for him. "Maybe for Gods it's easy to leave their children behind like – like an old pair of shoes, but most mortal parents are better than that. _Mom_ is better than that! She married Smelly Gabe so that the two of us could still be a family long after you had crawled back to your _wife_!"

Poseidon's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened so much they turned black, highlighting his resemblance to his older brother. Percy leaned away from him, not liking the way the conversation was going anymore. And whose fault was it? His and his stupid mouth's! His mom had always told him his cheeky attitude was going to bite him on the ass one day.

A book fell from the shelf, shattering the silence. It was followed by another and then by the sound of clinking glass from the kitchen. The light flickered. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw the coffee table tremble a few inches forward. The vase by the door crashed to the floor, scattering the blue flowers it contained everywhere.

It was the beginning of an Earthquake and it didn't seem like Poseidon was going to be able to restrain himself much longer. Great, he was probably going to be the cause of a few hundred deaths.

"Dad?" he called, voice wavering. He wasn't even aware of the word that had left his lips.

It seemed to do the trick. The books stopped inching their way out of the shelves, the glasses resumed their quiet existence and the ground went back to being flat and still.

Percy swallowed, willing his breathing under control. His heart seemed intent on jumping out of his chest. The last time he had been this scared, Echidna had set the Chimera on him and he had fallen from the St. Louis Arch.

It had also been the first time he had truly trusted his father to help him.

"I scared you." Poseidon's voice was soft. Soothing, almost. The voice one would use with a spooked animal. "That was not my intention. You're not the only one unable to keep rage in check."

Percy giggled nervously. The residual adrenaline left over from his triggered 'fight or flight' instincts was making his hands shake. He pushed them between his tights. "No, I – I just run my mouth sometimes. It's – it's my fault."

Poseidon's gaze was uncomfortably piercing. "It's never your fault when an adult you should trust scares you. Or hurts you."

Percy got the feeling he wasn't referring exclusively to what had happened between them. He bit his lip.

"You're no more disrespectful than many other teenagers." The god went on. "At least, you've got a good reason. I shouldn't have talked like that about your mom. I'm not angry with her, just worried. Knowing what she – what _both_ of you had to put up with because of that mortal," he spat out the word 'mortal' like the vilest of curses, "the way I felt...Gods aren't supposed to feel that way." He finished in a whisper, looking unnerved.

His mouth formed the words before he could stop it. "What way?"

Poseidon smiled wanly. "Let's say I hope you never feel like that." His smile turned so sad Percy felt a catch in his breath. "Grief is the price we pay." He murmured obscurely. Before Percy could ask what that meant – because it honestly didn't make sense to him – Poseidon got up. "I should go now. My presence will soon be missed in Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" echoed Percy.

Poseidon's teeth flashed white against his tanned skin. "I'll see you soon, son." This time his hand didn't stop halfway. It cupped his face and its thumb caressed his cheek for the briefest of moments. Even like that, it was enough for him to feel that it was warmer than that of a human, as if the god was running a fever, which was impossible. It left him feeling cold when Poseidon took it away.

"And be careful." He winked.

Percy opened his mouth to say something – 'wait' or 'goodbye' or anything else – but the god had already disappeared into mist.

/

/

Poseidon reformed on the street outside his family's apartment building in the midst of ignorant mortals.

His godly senses guided him to a conscience in particular, one almost as bright to his eyes as that of their child.

Sally was waiting to cross the road on the other side of the street. She looked satisfied, which gave him hope her interview had been successful. She deserved a better job. And a better life, even if that might one day include another man.

He stared at her, unmindful of the crowd. Sally was the only thing in the world to him in that moment. She was just as beautiful as the first time he had met her. Her brown hair still twisted into the ringlets he had loved to wrap around his fingers and her skin was as tanned and unblemished as the last time he had kissed it.

He savagely squashed the need to reach her. He had gotten used to it throughout the years – he had often wished he could take both Sally and Percy to his palace and never allow them to leave. Unfortunately, they all had roles to play in this life.

He was about to vanish back into his element when Sally visibly stiffened. Her eyes found his unerringly despite the space and the mortals separating them.

Poseidon's breathe caught in his throat. They were as blue as the deepest sea, just as he remembered and still as intelligent and clear-sighted.

He raised a hand in greeting and she smiled. The traffic light turned green, but she didn't move from her place. They both knew the time was not right for another meeting, but a part of Poseidon had hoped she would stop being so damn perceptive for just one minute.

Their gazes remained unwaveringly fixed on each-other so Poseidon clearly saw her goodbye. She brought a hand to her lips, laid a kiss on it and blew it to him.

It was such a human thing to do, Poseidon laughed, startling a few pedestrians walking past him. He reached out a hand to catch the make-believe kiss as she had taught him years ago and brought it to his heart.

Her bright, joyful grin was his reward. He kept replaying it his mind as he turned into mist and let the winds guide him back to his palace and far from home.

/

/

'Grief is the price we pay' is a reference to a quote that goes 'grief is the price we pay for love'. It was used by the Queen of England, but the words are actually those of Dr Colin Murray Parkes.

 **Next Chapter** – Harry will finally meet Percy and Sally!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Hello readers! This chapter is almost as long as the previous one. I'm apparently unable to write anything shorter. Oh, well.

We finally have the much awaited for meeting between the two cousins. I hope you guys like it. A few new characters will also be introduced in this chapter and they may or may not be important to the long term plot. I'll leave you with this mystery. As they are OC, I'd like to know what you think of them.

Most of the information about the schools of magic are canonical and can be found on Pottermore. I changed a few things to better fit the story.

 **I'd like to thank the guests who reviewed. I hope you guys keep reading.**

Slade, again? I don't have the time to argue with you. The first thing you did in your previous review was insult me, calling me brain dead and telling me to "take this crap down". Next time you think someone has made a mistake maybe you could try telling them that without insulting them needlessly if you can manage it. Fortunately, it's not my job to teach you kindness or respect so let's end this here.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I just borrowed these characters and these worlds to have fun.

 **Chapter 4 – In which everyone has secrets**

Sally and Percy's apartment was tidy, but obviously lived in. Everywhere he looked, Harry could see the little touches that turned a simple place to live in into a home. A couple of books had been taken down from the shelves and stacked on top of the coffee table. There was a still running laptop abandoned on one of the couches and a pair of green converses by the door. Harry had almost tripped on them coming in.

In short, it had none of the fake, sterile air Harry had come to associate with the Dursleys' house. Sally must not have been as much of a neat freak as her eldest sister.

Harry and Professor Dumbledore had gotten to the United States a little after nine a.m., using a magical device called a Portkey. Harry had never used one before and, frankly, he was hoping to never have to use one ever again once he got back to England. All that spinning had made him nauseous and as soon as his feet had touched solid ground again, he had let go of the garishly coloured sock and basically kissed the floor.

Their landing point had been a gigantic room, lavishly decorated with marble columns and statues of half naked men and women Dumbledore had told him were the Greek Gods. He had also explained the room was designated for international Portkey travel inside the U.S Ministry of Magic. Around them, many others had been appearing and disappearing and a young ministry worker had soon pulled them away from their arrival spot.

"Another group is supposed to arrive in two minutes." She had explained in a rather strong accent that had taken Harry by surprise. "Better not stand there."

The woman had introduced herself as Emma Wright and she had explained a bit about the US – and in particular New York as that was where they were headed – as she led them to another room.

"Where are we exactly?" Harry had asked in a whisper to Dumbledore while they waited for the elevator. "I mean, what city?"

"Ah, I'm afraid that as a foreign citizen in US land, you're not allowed to know the exact location of their ministry, Harry." He had answered, loud enough that Miss Wright had turned to look at him. Harry had blushed deep red, but the woman had simply smiled before facing the elevator's doors again. "I'm aware of it only thanks to my position as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Although," he had continued in a softer voice, "it wouldn't be considered a breach of trust if you were to simply _glance_ outside a window."

Harry had done just that.

As soon as they had reached the new floor, he had found a window and had inconspicuously slowed his walk just as he was passing in front of it. Standing out over every other building, there had been a tall obelisk made of what looked like marble. A monument to George Washington, his mind had supplied. They were in Washington D.C.

Two Aurors in red uniform had done a thorough background check on their identities before allowing them to leave. It was obvious no one really suspected Albus Dumbledore of being someone else, but one could never be too sure. Harry himself had received a few wide eyed glances, but most people here didn't seem to know what he looked like. It had been rather refreshing.

From there, they had travelled to New York via Floo. It was just as bad as Harry remembered and barely more acceptable than the Portkey.

They had been rudely spat out into a busy office. Well, _Harry_ had been spat out, covered in soot from head to toe and glasses askew; Dumbledore had simply stepped out of that death trap looking immaculate as ever.

An Auror, a tall woman who looked old enough to have attended school with Dumbledore and stern enough to give McGonagall a run for her money, had been waiting for them.

"Fiona, my dear, how are you?" Dumbledore had greeted warmly.

Fiona had revealed they were in the Auror office of New York, in the Empire State Building. She had checked their identities once more and then accompanied them out through the front door, where a line of tourists had been waiting to go up.

Harry had kind of envied them. He had wasted a few minutes gaping at the building and wishing he could ride an elevator to the top too.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dumbledore had said. Harry had nodded, still in awe. "And full of secrets too."

Harry had looked at him. "Beside the office?"

"Yes, Harry, beside the office."

He had been staring at the sky above the Empire State Building keenly, which Harry still thought was more than a bit odd. It was a cloudy day and, as far as he could see, there was nothing of interest to be found in the sky-line.

"Professor? What's wrong?"

That had brought Dumbledore's attention back on him. "Nothing, my boy. Just a suspicion a friend of mine and I had, many years ago. Come, Sally and Percy must be waiting for us."

So now he was sitting around the table in his newfound aunt's dining room.

Harry thought Sally looked quite a bit like his mom, definitely more than Aunt Petunia. She was tall and slim, but not bony like her eldest sister. Her hair was a rich brown colour and every time the light hit it, it highlighted a more auburn aspect. It fell in ringlets around her shoulders, the same way he had seen his mom's do in the few pictures he had of her. Even their eyes shared the same form, big and almond-shaped. Sally's, though, were blue like Aunt Petunia's and not green like his or his mom's.

She was a beautiful woman. Harry couldn't help but think that his mom would've been just as beautiful and he felt a pang in his chest that she hadn't been given the opportunity to grow older.

Dumbledore had been right about her. Even though Harry had known her for barely an hour, he could already tell she was a caring woman and as motherly as Mrs Weasley in her own way. But while Ron's mother could be a bit... _overbearing_ in her affection, Sally was more of a free spirit. She seemed like a fiercely independent person and she had obviously passed that on to her son. Had his mom been like that too?

"Are you sure you don't want something else to drink, Harry?" the woman in question asked. She had just come back from the kitchen, carrying a teapot in one hand and a blue cheesecake of all things in the other.

He shook his head, smiling. "No, thank you, Ms Jackson."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you not to call me 'Ms Jackson', Harry. It's Sally. Or even better – Aunt."

Harry blushed. "Oh, er, sure, Ms Jack – Sally." He wasn't quite yet ready to call her Aunt. In fact, he wasn't sure he ever would be – it was a word his brain insisted on applying to Aunt Petunia and no one else.

Percy snickered. "You're embarrassing him, Mom."

His newest cousin was sitting on the opposite side of the table from him and already busy demolishing a rather consistent slice of cheesecake. Harry wondered, not for the first time, where he put all those calories. He had already eaten something like ten cookies and yet he was just as skinny as Harry himself. Of course, Percy was more lean than scrawny and Harry spied young muscles subtly straining against the material of his long-sleeved shirt. Still, even if he practiced a sport, it was a miracle he wasn't as big as Dudley, especially if that was his usual diet.

"But you've got to try the cheesecake." Percy went on. "Mom spent the whole evening yesterday making it. You don't want her efforts to go to waste, right?"

"Percy." Ms Jack – _Sally_ scolded gently. Harry was pretty sure she had kicked him under the table, but all Percy did in response was grin cheekily.

Harry had realised after only five minutes of meeting him that Percy was, as the Weasley twins would say, a 'sarcastic little shit' and rather proud of it, too. Sarcasm was his default mode and the only language he understood. Taking his friendly taunting laying down would not endear him any to Percy.

He pointedly stared at Percy's by now empty plate. "It doesn't seem like her efforts are going to waste to me."

"I'm a growing boy." He brandished his fork against Harry. "And I helped make it. I deserve a reward."

Harry faked an exaggerated grimace. " _Now_ I really don't want to eat it."

Percy stuck out his blue tongue. "Funny. I'll have you know I'm a great cook." He turned to his mom, all puppy-eyes and pouty-lips, "Aren't I, Mom?"

Sally visibly melted. Harry couldn't blame her: Percy was scarily good at making himself seem cute and innocent. That was probably why he hadn't been arrested despite shooting a cannon at a bunch of students.

"Of course, honey."

She passed a hand over his cheek and Harry's heart gave a painful tug. Would his own mother have been the same with him? He had felt something similar last summer at the Burrow. While he knew the Weasleys cared about him, it simply wasn't the same as having a family of his own. Somehow, seeing Sally and Percy together was even worse – maybe it was because they were related and a part of him recognized that he could very well have grown up with them if Dumbledore had known about Sally. Or maybe it was because they seemed closer than the Weasley children were with their parents.

"But we're not here to talk about your culinary abilities. We are here to get to know each-other."

That was what Dumbledore had said too before leaving, just after Sally and Percy had told him they had decided to accept his offer (and with no need for persuasion!).

"Don't worry, my dear." He had reassured Sally when she had asked him if he really didn't want to stay for breakfast. "There is an old friend I need to meet before going back to London. Harry, I shall see you in a couple of hours. You should take advantage of this time to get to know your aunt and cousin better."

As soon as the old professor had walked out the door, things had turned rather tense. Sally hadn't felt it, apparently perfectly at ease having her newly found and completely unknown nephew in her home but Harry, who had never been exceptionally skilled at interacting with others, hadn't known what to say and had let a heavy silence envelop them. Percy had quite obviously been in the same boat as him because it had taken him a bit to warm up to Harry.

"Ok, ok." Percy raised his hands. "Let's have a heart to heart and share all our innermost secrets. Hey!" his impish grin widened. Harry felt his stomach fall to somewhere near his feet: that shit-eating smirk didn't promise anything good. "Let's play twenty questions!"

Sally groaned out-loud at the sight of his mischievously twinkling green eyes.

Percy didn't look much like his mother. The only thing they had in common was the shape of their lips, which were as plump as Harry's mom's had been. His, on the other hand, were thin. Like with many other things, he took after his Dad in that too.

Percy's features were harder. His jaw was sculptured, his nose straight and his cheekbones higher and sharper than Sally's. He didn't look American nor British. The first thing Harry had noticed upon being introduced to him had been his eyes. They were green like his own, but at the same time completely different; more of a sea green than a light green. Strangely enough, the longer he stared at them, the more certain he was he could hear the waves rushing to the shore in the far distance. It was perplexing. He wondered if it was some kind of weird visual effect.

"Twenty questions?" he asked suspiciously. He was pretty sure it was a stupid game Dudley had used to play with his friends.

"Yup." Percy popped the 'p'. "Like, we ask a question and then you ask one to us. Easy. It's a funny way of getting to know each-other, don't 'cha think?"

Harry was tempted to ask if he was exaggerating his accent on purpose to annoy him as his first question.

"Don't worry, Harry." Sally interjected. "I won't let him ask anything embarrassing."

Percy glared at her. "Wasn't going to." He mumbled. Harry thought he sounded too disappointed to be credible. "I'll start then. What's Hogwarts like? Since I'll be attending and all."

Harry felt a soft smile stretch his lips at the mere mention of his beloved school. "Hogwarts...Hogwarts is _amazing_. It's a medieval castle and it's gigantic. I mean, I've been going for two years and I still get lost sometimes. I doubt even the full seven years would be enough to uncover all its secrets. 'Course, the moving staircases don't help. They like changing place when you're on them. And some doors are not really doors, but walls disguised as doors and a few others like moving around. One morning they are near the Transfiguration classroom and the next you couldn't find them to save your life. It's a bit stressing, but fun most of the time."

Percy had a flabbergasted expression on his face. "Well, at least I won't be bored." He commented. He grabbed another cookie from the plate and began playing with it. It seemed to Harry as if he didn't know what to do with his hands.

Sally's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what exactly will you be doing, young man?"

Percy's face took on an innocent expression that didn't fool anyone. "Nothing, Mom. Maybe just jump from a moving staircase to another or something like that. I could _surf_ staircases. How cool would that be?"

He winked to which Sally rolled her eyes heavenward, apparently used to her son's oddness.

Harry coughed to hide a laugh. He decided to save his cousin from his own foot swallowing tendencies. "I'll make sure he doesn't get himself killed, Sally."

"Why am I not reassured?" she asked rhetorically.

Percy and Harry exchanged a glance full of meaning and looked away just as swiftly, snickering.

"I'll have him surfing staircases in less than a week, that's why."

"Anyway," Harry interrupted before their friendly banter could escalate into a full blown-out war, "Hogwarts is surrounded by extensive grounds. There is a forest, but students are forbidden from going in because of all the creatures living in it, and a lake."

Percy perked up. "A lake? Can we swim in it or is it against the rules?"

"Well, I don't think it's against the rules per se," Harry said slowly, "but I've never seen anyone swimming in it. I don't think anyone even _wants_ to. I mean, the water is really cold and there is a giant squid living in it."

Percy didn't seem discouraged by it. "Cool."

"You like swimming?" Harry eyed him again. Swimmers burned a lot of calories, right? It could explain his lean physique. God, now he sounded like Hermione.

Percy brightened at once. "Love it."

"He's a fish out of water, I swear." They both laughed, as if sharing an inside joke no one else was privy to. "What about you, Harry? What sports do you like?"

"Well, I don't know how to swim." Harry admitted, blushing lightly. Was that strange for someone his age? "But I play Quidditch. I'm the Gryffindor Seeker."

Percy appeared horrified. "How can you _not_ know how to swim? It's, like, fundamental!"

Sally elbowed him on the ribs. "Don't listen to him, Harry." She told her highly embarrassed nephew. She put an hand on his arm. "Just because he learned how to swim before he could walk doesn't mean everyone has to love it as much as he does."

"There was no need to hit me." Percy complained, rubbing his side.

Sally's smile was as sharp as a knife. "Just reminding you of that talk we had about brain to mouth filters and how to develop a few." She turned to Harry, ignoring Percy's annoyed expression. "Quidditch is played on brooms, right? I think I remember Lily saying something about it."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we fly on brooms. It can be a bit violent and dangerous, but it's really exciting." He grinned at the mention of his Mom. "Did Mom really talk about Quidditch?"

Sally hummed affirmatively. "I remember she didn't like it all that much. She was scared of heights."

That sobered him up quickly. Well, at least he knew his dad had loved it the way he did. "I could teach you." He offered Percy tentatively. "And you could teach me to swim." He wasn't too keen on getting into the icy waters of the Black Lake, but that was the kind of thing cousins did together, right?

Sally paled and Percy laughed nervously. "No, I – I like my feet on the ground, thank you." He stammered.

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. His mother hadn't been the only one with a fear of heights, apparently. He could sort of understand why considering Sally's parents – his and Percy's grandparents – had died in a plane crash. That wouldn't endear anyone to the notion of flying. Still, it was a pity.

"It's your loss." He shrugged. He didn't want to make Percy feel bad about his phobia, even if the other boy had kind of made fun of his inability to swim. "I guess that means Hermione will have someone with whom to bond over her hate of Quidditch."

"Hermione? Is she your friend?" Percy asked.

"One of my best friends." Harry specified. "She's the brightest witch of our year and she knows more spells than anyone else, even though she's a muggleborn."

"Which means her parents are non-magic, right?" Percy scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry, I have trouble remembering this sort of things."

"Yeah, that's what it means. But don't worry, it's not important, even if there are some who like to think it is." He grimaced, thinking of Draco Malfoy and his gang of blood purists in training. "They just can't accept that a muggleborn is more talented and intelligent than them, but Hermione has shown them up more than once. She got me out of a few tough situations too."

"Sounds just like Annabeth." Sally winked at her son. "I don't know where you'd be without her."

Percy smiled self-deprecatingly . "Not here, that's for sure." At Harry's curious expression, he elaborated, "Annabeth is a friend. My _best_ friend, I guess, together with Grover. And she's a genius. Like, a real genius. Really brave too. We went through some difficult times this summer and she – she helped a lot. Wait a moment," he tilted his chair back on two legs and detached something from the fridge's metal door, "here, that's them." He passed a picture over to Harry.

In it, there was Percy, wearing an obnoxiously orange t-shirt and looking a bit rumpled. His hair was pushed all to one side and there was mud spluttered on his face, but he was smiling so wide his cheeks had to hurt. He had his arms around two other kids sitting on either side of him. The boy looked to be a bit older than them. He had the beginning of a scruffy beard on his chin and pimples on his cheeks. He was wearing the same orange shirt as Percy and a red, green and yellow cap over curly brown hair. The girl was around their age. She had curly blonde hair and startlingly grey eyes, almost silvery. Harry found they reminded him of someone, but he couldn't pinpoint who. She was tan and even more athletic looking than Percy. And pretty, definitely pretty. In fact, it seemed to him as if Percy had a bit of a crush on her, but he didn't comment on it. They didn't know each-other well enough for that.

"Did you go to school together?" he asked, passing the picture back to Percy.

Instead of replacing it on the fridge, his cousin pocketed it. "Nah. We met at this summer Camp we both go to. And Grover. He's the one who convinced me to go. Sort of."

"I've never been at a summer Camp." Harry said wistfully. Dudley had gone once, when they were ten, but he had thrown one of his tantrums within a week of leaving and he had been sent home. The Dursleys had told everyone that Camp was simply not good enough for their 'Dudders', but Harry knew that his cousin had been unable to keep up with all the compulsory outdoor activity and that his bullying had gotten him in trouble for once in his life. He himself would've loved going, but of course his uncle and aunt would never have paid for it. "What do you do there?"

"Loads of things." Percy said excitedly. "We have got a climbing wall and canoeing, archery, horse racing, swimming. The best thing is that all the kids there have ADHD and dyslexia like me and we learn to keep them a bit under check."

Harry blinked. "I didn't know you were ADHD and dyslexic. Is that why you've had all those problems at school?" Realizing belatedly how that must've sounded when Percy blushed deep red, he backpedalled. "I mean – I didn't mean it as a bad thing, just..."

"No, it's okay, really." Percy scratched the back of his head, not looking at him. "I know my school records are not..." he turned to his mom for support.

Sally ruffled his hair affectionately. "You do your best, that's what matters." Harry had a feeling she wasn't talking just about school. She smiled at Harry. "Why don't you tell us more about Hogwarts? What subjects do you take?"

Maybe he had become paranoid after what had happened at Hogwarts – first the Philosopher's Stone and then the Chamber of Secrets – but there had been something peculiar in Sally's tone. It seemed to him she had wanted to divert the attention from the topic of Percy's learning disabilities and Camp. Maybe she hadn't wanted to further embarrass her son. _Or maybe_ , countered a dark voice in his head, _they're hiding something, just like everyone else in your life._ Harry silenced it.

"Well, there's a set of core subjects – Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Defence against the Dark Arts and History of Magic – and a few electives. I've chosen Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, but there is also Runes, Arithmancy and Muggle Studies."

Percy threw his head back with a groan. "I'm liking this school of Magic thing less and less."

Harry smirked. "It's not as bad as it sounds. You get used to it after a while, even if some teachers are..." he trailed off. Percy didn't need to know about Snape yet. He was quite certain they weren't going to get along anyway. "...a bit strict."

Percy actually looked like he was going to be sick. "Great. Strict teachers and I get along fabulously."

"Don't worry, honey." Said Sally. "Everything will be okay as long as you don't explode a classroom or something like that."

Percy stared at her strangely. "Why is everyone convinced I'm going to make a classroom explode? Dad said the same."

That, thought Harry, would have been the perfect moment to ask about the missing father. It wasn't any of his business, but it was difficult to rein in his curiosity. He did it only because he knew firsthand what it meant to be judged by near strangers for being an orphan. He had no idea where Percy and his father stood and he didn't want to rub salt in a possibly open wound.

He asked something else. "Is it my turn for a question now?"

"We have kind of taken over the conversation, hm?" Sally grinned sheepishly. "What would you like to know?"

He raised a cookie to his eyes, studying its unnatural colour suspiciously. "Why blue?"

/

/

An inviting scent came from the green tea and Albus felt the long-accumulated tension leave his limbs. He moved his face over the cup and inhaled the beneficial vapours.

"Your tea always makes me feel better, Saya. Much more efficient than our pick-me-up potions."

Ryusaki Saya smiled at him over the brim of her own cup. "And yet I doubt you came here just for my tea, Albus." She said, her accent just as strong as the day she had moved to the United States, over four decades ago. "What do you need?"

"You can't believe I just wanted to see an old friend?"

Saya laughed gaily. Time had been merciful to her – it had preserved her youthful beauty even in her old age. It became more apparent when she laughed or smiled.

"Oh, Albus. Let's not kid ourselves. We're not the kind of people who visit old friends without ulterior motives."

Albus sighed. "And we're too old to change, I guess."

Saya's smile turned bitter. "I was never the one scared of the decay of old age, Albus."

No, that had been Gellert and him. Even as a young woman, Saya had been too wise to fall for the deceiving and empty promises of the Hallows.

"Well, it's not something I need as much as something I'm curious about." He admitted. "I accompanied a student to meet relatives of his and I thought I'd stop by and see if you could perhaps help me."

"The great Headmaster of Hogwarts babysitting a simple student? Will wonders never cease?"

Albus glared at her. Anyone else would've been hard-pressed not to find that at the very least a bit unsettling, but Saya just laughed again, carefully sipping her hot beverage.

"Must be someone special." She continued.

"He is, in fact." Albus conceded.

Saya raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Knowing that she could be like a dog with a bone when it came to information, he relented without even trying. "It's Harry Potter. I admit I've a vested interest in his life, for better or for worse."

"It's to be expected. It's not every day a child survives the Killing Curse." She scrutinized him, dark eyes glinting. "And how is he? I cannot imagine he escaped unscathed, scar notwithstanding."

Albus shook his head resolutely. "No, I will not have you turn him into a clinical case. And that's not why I'm here, anyway."

"Bah!" she repositioned her shawl on her shoulders, annoyed. "Have it your way. I was simply curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

Saya smirked. "But satisfaction brought it back."

Albus laughed. "Too true, my friend."

The _swish_ of something sharp cutting the air, followed by a muted _thud,_ interrupted the conversation. Albus frowned, wondering who else was there.

Saya correctly interpreted his expression. "It's just my granddaughter practicing her archery. She's incredibly talented."

Albus' eyebrows rose in surprise. "I wasn't aware you had grandchildren. How old is she?"

"Only the one." Saya said. "She's nine. She wasn't born last time we saw each-other."

"Time has gotten away from us, it seems."

She nodded. "Why are you here then? I get tired of these small talks, you know."

He smiled, a tinge of melancholy to it. It might have been over a decade since they had last met, but she was still the same old Saya.

"I was curious to know if your research had gotten somewhere."

The woman leaned back on her chair. She stared at him thoughtfully. If Albus knew her at all – which he did – she was weighting how much to say and what to keep to herself. Those who thought he was secretive had obviously never met Ryusaki Saya. She breathed and lived secrets. Not even the man she had loved and who had given her three children had known all she had done.

"You want to know about the Gods and their children. You want to know if they really are here in the United States."

"Simply put." He stirred his tea absentmindedly. "I'm aware you interrupted your research a few years ago." He went on, keeping his eyes on the gently swirling liquid. "The only reason you ever stopped looking for the truth was because you had found it."

"And now you want me to share it with you." She shook her head.

Albus saw something unexpected in her gaze – vulnerability and exhaustion. He had known her since they were in their thirties and he had never seen her look quite so... _defeated_.

"You're forgetting something, Albus. I'm old. Old and tired. I sacrificed decades of my life to this... _quest_ in the hope of unearthing clues, no matter how small, that would take me closer to the Gods. All I got was disappointment and heartache. I never found anything conclusive. There were times I thought my failure would drive me mad." She fidgeted with her shawl. "I decided after my grand-daughter was born that it was time for me to take a step back. Let the younger generations of truth seekers deal with this madness, I say!" a fleeting smirk traversed her face. "You should think about doing the same. I can hear your bones creaking all the way over here."

Albus let the dig wash over him, not allowing it to divert his attention. "I still have a few years of work left before I can rest."

Saya's face darkened. "What kind of work? From what I hear, your Dark Lord is dead and his Death-Eaters no longer active."

"I'm afraid those rumours are little more than the unexpressed hope of a scared and tired community. That particular war is far from over."

"That Voldemort." She spat out in disgust. "You believe he'll try to conquer Britain again?"

Albus nodded solemnly. "And not only Britain. And Harry will be his first target, I fear."

"Of course, he'll want to prove no one can beat him and that the Potter child's survival was but a stroke of luck."

Her expression was strained and revulsion oozed out of her every wrinkle. Saya had always held a certain antipathy for the Dark Arts and those who practiced them, but it had escalated into loathing after her eldest daughter, a curse breaker dispatched in Romania, had been killed in a skirmish with a raising Dark Lord who had subsequently been arrested.

"I plan on stopping him from succeeding." Albus guaranteed forcefully. "But don't think I've forgotten what I'm here for." His lips twitched at her grimace. "My memory hasn't quite gotten that bad yet. In fact, I seem to remember you once saying you'd die before giving up on a search."

Her frown intensified. She seemed to battle with herself for a long moment before finally saying, "I said only death would stop me. Maybe. At least get it right, you insufferable old man."

She got up, taking her cup with her. She walked to the kitchen counter deliberately and poured herself more tea. "Want some more?" she waved the teapot.

He raised his still half full cup to decline.

Saya huffed. "Well, you're not wrong. I'm fairly sure I solved the mystery, but I've nothing tangible to offer, only circumstantial proofs and a healthy dose of sixth sense." She leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Yes, the Greek Gods are here in the United States right now. They also have a bad habit of reproducing with humans. More than that, I cannot say."

Albus felt his heart rate accelerate. For years he had held silent on his suspicions, fearing his involvement would cause more trouble than it was worth, but now, to finally have some answers, no matter how inconclusive...

Whatever Saya said about not being sure, he knew she wouldn't have closed her investigation if she hadn't been certain of her discoveries.

"And the Empire State Building? Does it have something to do with them?" he asked fervently.

Saya's eyebrows pulled down together. "Why do you want to know? This – this was never something you were interested in. The only reason you even came to me years ago was because you thought Gellert Grindelwald, your _enemy_ , might've been looking into it."

His enemy. Saya was right, but she didn't know the whole story. Gellert had been his friend and perhaps the love of his life long before he was his enemy.

In their youth, they had been completely taken by the Three Hallows. Not much else had interested them, with the exception of eradicating the 'muggle plague', as they had called it. He didn't know what had pushed Gellert into searching for the Gods, especially after the tale of the three brothers had been proved true, but the not so small part of him that still couldn't let go of the golden haired German boy he had once loved couldn't bear to give up on what had turned out to be his last investigation.

If there was something of Gellert that deserved to be remembered, it was his love for knowledge.

"I just don't like to leave things unfinished." He said at last. It wasn't a lie, after all, just not the entire truth. "And you know I don't have the time to investigate on my own, not with my duties and all that has been going on in Britain in the last two decades. That's why I came to you today."

Saya crossed her arms over her chest. "Very well, Albus. But don't think for a moment I believe you." She waggled a finger at him as if he was a naughty child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "I didn't fall for your innocent facade seventy years ago and I'm not falling for it now." She sighed, shaking her head. Her still pitch black bun swayed precariously. "But I guess we're all entitled to our own secrets. Gods know I have more than a few. Yes, as much as it pains me to admit it, the German Dark Lord was right. The Gods' central of power is somewhere in the Empire State Building. Don't know where. Don't care to find out. The Gods are more attached to their secrets than either of us could ever hope to be and they don't appreciate people putting their nose where it doesn't belong.

"Grindelwald was also right in his assumption that the Gods, or most probably their children, had an active hand in the outbreak of the Second World War."

Which was what Albus suspected had prompted Gellert to follow up on his suspicions on the existence of the Greek Gods. Saya was another story altogether: she had always been unhealthily interested in the Gods. All Albus knew was that an ancestor of hers had proclaimed himself to be the child of one of them. (And maybe he truly had been. Who knew?).

He made to ask one more question, but Saya was faster than him. "And don't even think to ask me where _they_ are hiding. The half-bloods are the Gods' most well kept secret."

He frowned, something tugging at the back of his mind. "Half-bloods?"

"Just another name for demigods." Saya shrugged. "Isn't that what you English speakers call some wizards too?"

"It is. Strange coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Nothing. Whatever connection his mind had made had slipped away. He _was_ getting old. "What do you know about them? What are their powers?"

"I know what everyone else knows." Her voice had taken on a hard tone which told Albus she was getting annoyed with the conversation and with him in general. "A demigod is the child of a mortal and of a God or Goddess. They inherit some of the powers their godly parents have, though some are more _blessed,_ " she spat the word, "than others. Children of the eldest brothers are more powerful than the rest and because of this, rarer too, despite popular belief."

"It would seem the Gods are wary of power too." Albus commented lightly.

Saya snorted. "Only of the power they cannot control. Demigods are free spirits. They're the bridge between the mortal and immortal world and that gives them a connection their godly parents fear and envy at the same time." She looked down at her wrinkled hands. "Still, for all their strength, they're incredibly vulnerable. Few of them survive to adulthood."

Albus was sure he spied tears glinting in her eyes, but when she brought them back on him, her gaze was clear and hard. His brow furrowed. While not a cold person by any stretch of the word, Saya had always strived to keep her emotions in check. She was an incredibly private woman and she didn't believe in sharing her feelings with others, much less with him. Albus did not fool himself into thinking Saya trusted him. He found it hard to trust her too.

He chose to let the matter rest. "It explains why most of us know nothing about them."

"They are just good at hiding." She countered. "I suspect our society will know about theirs only when and if the Gods will want us to know."

Albus got up, his knees complaining the long stretch of time spent in the same position. "You mean never."

It was disappointing. If the demigods were as strong as he suspected them of being, they could've been a huge asset in the fight against Voldemort and his Death-Eaters.

"Don't even think about it." Saya barked.

Albus' eyes widened. "I don't –"

"Oh, I know that look, Albus." She interrupted menacingly. "You were thinking how useful they could've been in your fight against the Dark Lord."

"It's not _my_ fight." He retorted sharply, for the first time losing his composure. "It's everyone's fight."

"But not theirs." Saya pointed out gently. "Half-bloods fight in the name of the Gods or for other half-bloods. They own their loyalty to no one else. And why should they? Their lives are dangerous enough as it is. And even if they thought your war was a just cause to fight in, the Gods would never allow them to risk themselves for a mortal matter."

For someone who had maintained she had no certainties, she seemed to know quite a lot about demigods and their way of life.

"Saya, what el–"

"Obaa-chan?"

The door opened and a young girl stuck her head into the kitchen. She had Saya's straight dark hair and her elfish features, but her eyes were as blue as the morning sky, contrasting greatly with her Asian traits. When she opened the door fully, he saw she was carrying an old-fashioned bow as tall as her and had a quiver strapped to her back.

"Kikyou, I told you not to disturb me when I have visitors." Saya reprimanded.

She didn't sound annoyed, though, and the child obviously picked up on it because she blithely ignored the half-hearted rebuke in favour of studying him.

"Good evening." She greeted with an half bow, her startlingly clear eyes fixed on him.

Albus felt oddly judged by her serious gaze.

"Good evening to you too, young lady." He smiled. "You must be the talented archer your grandmother told me about."

The girl blushed lightly and fiddled restlessly with the plume on one of her arrows. "I'm not as good as Sobo says."

Saya rolled her eyes. "She's too modest."

"Ah, modesty is a good trait to have." Albus ignored Saya's disgusted _'Bha!'._ "Don't listen to your grandma." He winked, making the child giggle. "Do you attend Mahoutokoro like your grandmother did?"

Mahoutokoro was the only school of Magic in Japan and the oldest in the world. Unlike his English (and American) counterparts, it admitted students from the age of seven, though they didn't board until they were eleven. Albus had never had the honour of visiting it – though he knew it was hidden on the topmost peak of the volcanic island of Minami Iwo Jima – but Saya had shared with him a great deals of details and so he knew it was one of the best schools in the world and probably the only one that still taught Ancient Magic.

Kikyou shook her head. "No. I'll be going to Salem in a few years."

"Her mother works here in the United States so we decided it would be better for Kikyou to stay here." Grandmother and Granddaughter exchanged a loaded look, which told Albus that wasn't the whole story.

"And your father? Is he American?"

Saya's mouth twisted in a scowl. "In a manner of speaking.", was the only answer she gave.

Kikyou's lips thinned in displeasure at her grandmother's obvious scorn.

Beginning to feel a bit awkward, Albus decided it had come the time for him to leave. "Well, it was an incommensurable pleasure seeing you again, Saya. And meeting you, Kikyou. But it's time for me to go. Harry must be getting impatient."

Saya stared at her nails nonchalantly, studiously avoiding both his eyes and Kikyou's. "It was time for you to go two hours ago, Albus."

Albus winked at her over his shoulder on his way out. "Always so polite."

"Bha! I'll give you polite, you insufferable old man!"

He stifled a laugh.

/

/

Kikyou put her quiver on the table, knowing full well that it annoyed her grandmother. She would know she was getting back at her for her crack about her father.

The woman tightened her lips, but she didn't say anything on the matter.

"You heard?" _Sobo_ asked as soon as the unmistakable _'pop'_ of an apparition reached their ears.

Kikyou nodded. She didn't even try to hide it: nothing escaped her grandma's notice. And she being who she was, lying didn't come as easily as to most other kids her age.

"Should we worry?"

"Yes." Her grandma said without a moment's hesitation. "Albus Dumbledore is not to be underestimated. He may appear innocuous and even friendly, but he's as dangerous as a shark that has smelled blood."

Kikyou grimaced. "Nice. Why did you tell him all those things? Wouldn't it have been better to lie?"

Her grandma waved the suggestion away. "It wasn't anything he wouldn't have found out on his own if he wanted to. And to be honest, I don't know if I could've been convincing enough; he's too well trained at spotting lies, too good at seeing through facades. It would've aroused his suspicions way more than any information I gave him could ever do."

She sighed. "I better IM Chiron, hm?"

"Yes, my child. You'd better."

/

/

"You'll be leaving soon?"

"I guess. I mean, Mom and me–"

" 'Mom and I'." Annabeth corrected at once.

Percy glared at her. " _Mom and I_ are going to London tomorrow to buy school supplies, but term doesn't start until September First so I'll probably leave on the thirty-first."

Annabeth hummed contemplatively. From the little he could see in the rainbow of the Iris Message, she was in a bedroom, probably hers at her dad's house. He could glimpse the edge of a bed covered by a green blanket, a wooden desk submerged by worksheets and drawings of temples and a wall which was, strangely enough, half white and half painted in green.

"Are you renovating?" he blurted out.

She tilted her head to the side, staring at him impassively. He knew that look: she wore it every time he said or did something that made her doubt his intelligence.

"I, it's just –" he floundered, flushing, "it doesn't really seem you, you know?" by her raised eyebrow and generally unimpressed expression, he deduced that no, she did not know. "I mean, your favourite colour is grey, but everything in your room is so... _green_!", if you fail the first time just try again, right?

Inexplicably she grinned, her eyes lighting up. "It is, but I like green better lately. It soothes my nerves, kind of."

Percy gaped at her for a moment. Why did she have to be so strange?

"Whatever. Well, what do you think about all this?"

"About the...wizarding world?" she crossed her legs underneath herself. Even though her bed was only a few feet from her and there was a plush chair pushed in front of the desk, she was sitting on the floor, a cream coloured rug the only thing between her and the cold tiles. "I guess I shouldn't be so surprised by its existence. If there is a Goddess of Magic, it's only logical there would be people able to wield that same energy. I've never met a child of Hecate, but I imagine they are able to use magic too. I'm just a bit annoyed Chiron hasn't told us anything, but he probably has his reasons."

Percy frowned. He hadn't thought of the possibility that the old centaur might have known about wizards all along. "Do you think I should tell him?"

"Yes." Annabeth said decidedly. "His advice will be invaluable. Honestly, I'm a bit worried."

He bit his lip. "You don't think I should trust them?"

Annabeth shook her head, looking concerned. "I know Harry is your family and everything, but really, what do you know about him? And from what you said, these wizards are not particularly open-minded. I'd hate to see what would happen if they found out about the Greek world." She blushed lightly, "Or what they'd do to you."

Percy smirked. "You're worried about me. That's so cute."

Despite the kilometres separating them, he swore he could feel the heat of her glare. "Shut up, Seaweed Brain."

He snickered. "Well, you shouldn't. I wasn't planning on telling them anything about us."

Annabeth took a moment to answer, a part of her probably wishing to give him the cold shoulder for having made fun of her. Percy could actually _see_ her pathological need for information come up on top of her feeling of annoyance. His grin stretched so wide he was sure his face was going to split open.

"Not even to your cousin?" she asked at last.

Percy briefly entertained the thought of giving her a hard time, but in the end decided it just wasn't worth it. He didn't want her angry at him. She'd probably ignore his Iris Messages when he was at Hogwarts and lonely. Just thinking about it was enough to put a lump in his throat.

"Not for now. I'll see if he can be trusted."

"Hm." Annabeth studied him searchingly, lips tight and eyes dark. "You're worried too."

Percy avoided her gaze. "It's just...I haven't got the best track record when it comes to making friends. Before meeting Grover and then you, I was pretty much always on my own. I guess I'm just worried I'll be homesick." He laughed self-consciously. "Pretty childish, hm?"

"No, it isn't." Annabeth denied fervently. "It was like that for me too before I went to Camp. Mortals can feel there is something different about us, even if they don't know what, and it scares them. I know _exactly_ how I feel."

Her self-assured tone made him smile. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn't alone anymore. He had always had his mom, sure, but knowing that there was a group of people who had gone through roughly the same things he had and felt the same way he did, made the world seem less cruel and empty.

Whatever happened at Hogwarts, he'd always have Annabeth and Grover and the rest of Camp Half-Blood. It was in moments like this that the dangerous life of a demigod felt like a price worth paying in exchange for the companionship they shared.

"You know, I'm kind of worried about going to a new school too." Annabeth admitted hesitantly. "Institutionalized education makes me feel stupid."

"It's the dyslexia. Most teachers don't care for us. They're just happy if we're kicked out of their classes." He grumbled moodily. "But you're a genius. And if you ever feel stupid, you'll just have to IM me and I'm sure you'll feel intelligent again."

The dig at his own expenses worked. Annabeth laughed, her previous good mood restored.

"You're such a Seaweed Brain." She said fondly. "And you aren't stupid, just terribly oblivious."

"Eh." Percy scratched the back of his head. "I'm pretty sure that's the first time you ever complimented me."

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a compliment."

"You said I'm not stupid. Good enough for me." He shrugged. "How is it going with your family?"

Annabeth grimaced. "My father still needs to grow a backbone and my step-mother still thinks I'm a bomb about to go off. My step-brothers are the only ones who don't walk on eggshells around me."

Ouch. Percy winced, regretting having asked. "Sorry."

"Is not your fault, stupid."

He stuck his tongue out at her. So much for wanting to make her feel better.

Annabeth made a face back at him and their conversation soon degenerated into a battle for supremacy. It came to an end when Percy went cross-eyed in an attempt to scowl and scrunch up his nose at the same time.

It left Annabeth breathless with laughter and Percy flushing red. "Shut up, Wise Girl. It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, it was. It –" she hiccupped loudly. Percy smirked. "Shut up, Sea –" her shoulders quivered with tension as she suppressed another hiccup, "–weed Brain."

He laughed, feeling vindicated. "Must be Karma, Wise Girl."

Annabeth grumbled darkly under her breath. "You don't –" an hiccup cut her off, "even know what–" there she went again, "Karma is."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do –"

"Kids, are you bickering again?" his mom called from the living room.

"No, Mom!" Percy lied. It was easier to do when he didn't have to look at her in the face. "Just a divergence of opinions." He glowered at Annabeth, who was snickering behind her hand. "And yes, I know what divergence means!" he added snidely.

He could actually _feel_ his mom roll her eyes heavenward (Olympusward?) even through the wall hiding her from view. "Listen to Annabeth. She's always right."

Percy snapped his head around and gaped incredulously at the door. "Mom!"

Annabeth chortled. Gods, now he was going to have to put up with her insufferably gleeful expression.

"I'm still right." He crossed his arms mutinously, turning to face her. As he expected, she was looking incredibly satisfied with herself.

"Even your mom agrees with me."

Percy sniffled haughtily. "I don't have to listen to you."

Annabeth spread her hands. "Suits yourself. Hey, do they teach normal subjects at that school?"

Percy side-eyed her, still not sure she was done laughing at his expense. "Normal? Like Math and English?" at Annabeth's nod, he shook his head. "I don't think so. Why?"

She shrugged. "You need to graduate from high school to get into College and I don't think they accept a Diploma in Potions or something like that. If Hogwarts doesn't prepare its students for life in the non-magical world, they are forced to remain in the wizarding one as adults whether they like it or not." She bit her bottom lip pensively, as Percy knew she did every time she thought of something she had not taken into consideration previously. "Course, that's not a problem if you _want_ to remain in the wizarding world. Those who come from magical families won't know any other way of living and I don't think many of those born of normal families would turn their back on something as wondrous as magic. I guess life would be easier for someone like us too there."

Percy didn't even need to think about it. Just as Poseidon had said, he wouldn't have to constantly hide his powers in the wizarding world, even if no one could know the truth about them, but he would still be lying and he didn't want to do that for the rest of his life.

He shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, my place is somewhere else. With you and the rest of the demigods. I just...I feel like I _belong_ to Camp Half-Blood, you know? I'm not explaining this well, but –"

"No, I get it." Annabeth's lips had quirked up. Percy got the feeling he had said exactly what she had been hoping to hear. "It's like your very blood is calling out to you, telling you to fight and survive. To become part of the myths."

"I guess that makes us sort of suicidal, right?" he smiled lopsidedly. Annabeth chuckled. "And I guess you're right about Hogwarts. I'll need to get my GED on my own if I want to live outside the wizarding world." He realized what that meant and he moaned. "More studying. I can't believe it." He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair.

"Don't worry, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth winked at him. "I'll help you."

Percy felt like crying of gratitude. "Thank you. You're a saving grace. A goddess." He enthused.

Annabeth grinned. "Try to remember that next time you say you don't have to listen to me."

"Let's not exaggerate, Wise Girl." He said. "You can't _always_ be right."

"We'll see about that."

Percy ignored her.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Annabeth played with the frayed edge of her shorts, her blonde curls hiding half her face from view. Percy leaned back on his arms, mentally listing all the things he'd have to buy the next day. Dumbledore had given him the standard letter usually sent to Hogwarts students, but the only thing he was really looking forward to getting was a wand. While it would never be as cool as his trusty sword Riptide, it would still be a _magical wand,_ which was nothing to scoff at.

He felt the weight of Annabeth's gaze on him and he brought his eyes back on the Iris Message, curious. Her grey eyes darted away as soon as she realized he had noticed her scrutiny. Were girls always this damn weird?

"Is something wr–?"

"You'll IM when you're in England, right?"

Percy snapped his mouth shut. Okay, then. "Course I will. I'll need someone to help me with my homework."

"Stupid." She said, at last looking back at him. He grinned unrepentantly. "Try not to forget about us, Kelp Head."

Kelp Head? That was a new one.

Her tone was light, almost uncaring, but Percy heard real worry underneath the disinterest. He didn't know why he was surprised: Annabeth had been neglected by her father all her childhood; she had found a new family while on the run, but the daughter of Zeus had sacrificed herself to save her and Luke and the latter had ultimately betrayed the both of them by joining Kronos and letting Annabeth go on a potentially deathly quest when he had been the one to steal the Master Bolt. It was to be expected she'd have abandonment issues.

He resolved not to make her feel self-conscious about it.

"For someone so intelligent you can be pretty dense, you know that, right?" he never said he was going to be _nice_ about it. "You're my best friend, Wise Girl. I couldn't forget you if I tried. And I have, you know? You're annoying."

"Seaweed Brain. I'm gonna beat you up so bad next time we meet I'll make Clarisse look like a kindergarten bully." She promised with a glare.

Percy didn't believe a word of it. It was obvious she was relieved and even a bit amused. He considered it a win.

"Whatever you say, Beth."

She glowered. "Don't call me 'Beth'. Or 'Annie'!" she added hastily. Percy raised his hands, grinning innocently, as if he hadn't been about to use the second of Annabeth's hated nicknames. "Now, before you start annoying me again," she gave him the stink eye, "we need to find a way around the time difference."

Percy paled. "Time difference?" he spluttered, "There is a time difference?"

Annabeth slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Seaweed Brain!"

/

/

 **Next chapter:** A bit of shopping!


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Hi, guys!

In this chapter Percy buys something really important to his future as a wizard and we are one step closer to Hogwarts!

The meanings of the trees I used can be found around the internet.

I hope you like it. Let me know what you think if you have the time.

 **To the guests who reviewed** , once again thank you. Some of you wondered what would happen to **Tyson**. Worry not, my readers. I've not forgotten about the big guy. He will be in the story.

Also thank you to **BlueBellOnXbox** since I cannot answer to your reviews privately.

 **Disclaimer:** Guess what? I'm still poor and I still own nothing.

 **Chapter 5 – In which old wizards are weird and wands explode**

"Still doubtful, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Dumbledore chuckled. Harry figured he was still looking out of the window at the rapidly moving landscape and he wondered how he managed to stand it. To him, the outside world was nothing more than a blur of greens and blues. It made him feel sick, which was why he forced his eyes to stay fixed on his own jeans clad knees. The Knightbus was almost as bad as a Portkey when it came to nausea-inducing abilities and he feared he would throw up all over his Headmaster if he as much as glanced up.

"They're good people, wouldn't you say?" the old professor went on. "A bit odd perhaps, but who isn't?"

"I guess." Harry said slowly. He chanced raising his eyes and drew a relieved sigh when nothing happened. "Sally is...a bit like I always imagined my mom to be."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "They're quite alike. I'm glad you got along fine with her."

"Me too." Harry said. He had admittedly been worried about meeting the Jacksons, but it seemed his concern had been unfounded. "She's easy to get along with."

"That she is." Agreed Dumbledore. He nodded at a young witch swaying past their seats. "Though I don't doubt she could make it difficult if she wanted to."

Harry frowned. "I...don't think I understand."

"Oh, just something Ms Jackson said. About your aunt." The Headmaster explained. "Your other aunt, I mean, of course. Her sister."

Harry remembered at once that just as they had been about to leave, Sally had taken Dumbledore aside. Harry hadn't been able to hear a word of it, mostly because Percy had kept his attention on him throughout the whole conversation, asking questions about Diagon Alley and its shops, but her harsh tone had been unmistakable.

At the time, Harry hadn't thought much of it, believing that his cousin was simply curious about the society he was about to enter, as was natural. Now, though, he wondered if perhaps it hadn't been a crafty method of hiding whatever Sally and Dumbledore were discussing from him.

He was beginning to suspect there weren't enough secrets between Sally and Percy for it to be a healthy mother-son relationship. Not that he had much experience with that kind of thing, but he knew for a fact that Mrs Weasley and her husband didn't know half the things their kids got up to while at Hogwarts.

"And what did she say?"

Dumbledore's eyes were devoid of their usual twinkle. "Sally is not happy with Petunia, I fear."

Harry felt a cold sensation creeping in his gut. There was no way Sally had been told of his home life, right? He had been careful to never mention it in details to anyone. "And...why is that?"

"For not telling her you'd survived, mostly."

Harry sighed, relieved.

"And she's convinced it wasn't a good idea to leave you in Petunia's care." Dumbledore admitted, sounding uncertain.

Add that to the list of things he and Sally agreed on. He would've actually preferred to be left at an orphanage than with the Dursleys. The caretakers at least wouldn't have chucked him into a cupboard under the stairs. Not that he was going to confess that to his Headmaster, obviously.

Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for an answer to his implied question, but Harry struggled to come up with a credible comment. What was there to say? He was pretty sure the old man already suspected that he wasn't happy living with his aunt and uncle and if he hadn't done anything to rectify the situation in the last twelve years, he probably wasn't going to do something now.

After a rather awkward pause, Dumbledore sighed dejectedly. His expression oozed disappointment. "What did you think of Percy?"

"I don't know." He said honestly.

Percy had been hard to read. His easy-going personality had often appeared to Harry fabricated to keep others at arm's length and he couldn't even say how much of it was genuine and what was, instead, a mask. Harry couldn't blame him – he had his doubts too, after all – but Percy took it to a whole new level. He didn't even know if the other boy had shown him anything true about himself.

Still, he had been nothing if not nice to Harry and that had to count for something.

"He talked about himself only superficially; never about anything important. But I guess that's to be expected. We are strangers."

A suitcase went hurling down the corridor after a rather haphazard turn of the bus and Harry instinctively ducked. The airborne projectile didn't even come close to him and Ernie sniggered. Harry had to swallow the need to scream at him to keep his eyes on the road.

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, completely unperturbed by the man's dangerous driving. "I thought that too. Well, you'll have all the time in the world to get to know each-other better at Hogwarts."

He hadn't thought of that – for some reason, the knowledge that Percy would be attending Hogwarts with them that year kept slipping his mind. They would probably spend a lot of time together, especially if he was sorted into Gryffindor.

That gave him pause. "Professor? Is Percy going to be sorted with the first years?"

He didn't think his cousin would appreciate being put in the spotlight like that and an older, foreign student in a group of eleven year olds was bound to attract attention.

Before Dumbledore could answer, the Knightbus came to an abrupt stop and Harry was unceremoniously jostled out of his seat. He landed on his hands and knees and bit back a pained groan at the impact. He cursed under his breath. How come he could comfortably sit on a broom hundreds of metres up in the air, but he had absolutely no sense of balance on his own two feet?

A wrinkled hand was thrust in front of his face. "Careful, my boy. We don't want you getting hurt."

Harry smiled sheepishly and accepted the offered limb. Dumbledore pulled him to his feet easily despite his old age. It was more than a bit embarrassing, if he wanted to be honest.

"The Leaky Cauldron, Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Stan Shunpike called enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Stan." Dumbledore tipped his pointy hat at the young conductor. "Travelling with you was a pleasure, as always."

Harry looked at him strange. There was no way he was telling the truth. No one in their right mind would enjoy a trip on the Knightbus.

Stan waved cheerfully at Harry as he and the Headmaster jumped out of the infernal vehicle. "Bye, Neville! See you soon!"

Harry smiled tentatively, hoping beyond hope Dumbledore wouldn't question him on the name the older boy had used. He waved back as the doors slammed shut. A moment later, the Knightbus went careening down the road. Harry swore he saw a man face-plant against the back window right before the purple death-trap disappeared around the corner.

"Nice lad." Dumbledore commented. He grabbed Harry's elbow, leading him towards the muggle entrance to the magical world. "Did he call you 'Neville'?"

Harry blushed. He _knew_ the old professor was going to ask. "Oh, eh, yeah. It's a long story."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'll bet." He pushed open the door of the Leaky Cauldron.

The pub was brimming with people, which was to be expected at that time of the evening. They had left New York a bit past one p.m. and it was now almost seven in the U.K. Harry was left feeling a bit unsettled, his internal clock completely thrown off course.

"Well, Harry. To answer your question, no, Percy will be sorted on his own, before the first years. I believe he'll appreciate the privacy."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you plan on seeing them again tomorrow?" Dumbledore asked, leading him to an empty table near the counter.

"For dinner, after they're done with their shopping." Harry answered. He sat down, expecting Dumbledore to do the same, but the old professor remained standing.

"Good. You should spend as much time together as possible." He caught Tom the Bartender's eyes and beckoned him over. "You should eat something before trying to get some sleep."

"You are leaving?" then, fearing he had come across as rude, he hastily added, "Professor?"

Dumbledore's smile was tired, but genuine. "I still have a few things to take care of before calling it a day." Tom stopped in front of his table, writing pad in hand. "Good evening, Tom."

Tom grinned, showing them his yellowing teeth. "Headmaster. Are you joining our young guest tonight?"

"I'm afraid not, my friend. Business calls." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I suspect I won't be seeing you until the start of term, Harry. Enjoy what's left of your holydays and try not to worry too much."

With that, the Headmaster swept out of the pub, slipping with fluidity through the boisterous crowd of half drunk wizards. Harry was left alone with an impatient bartender and his tumultuous thoughts.

/

/

"Why is everyone wearing robes?" Percy demanded incredulously. "There is no way in Hades they're wearing them for comfort!"

His mom sighed, the sound full of exasperation. "Would you give it a rest, Percy?" she navigated the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley easily, her steps never faltering. For someone who had been there only once before some twenty years earlier, she certainly seemed to remember where everything was quite well. "I get it – you think the robes are stupid. I agree, but repeating it like a broken record won't change anything."

"I can try." Percy muttered darkly under his breath.

There was no way he was ever going to wear robes. Maybe it was hypocritical of someone who had spent the summer toting ancient Greek armour around, but that at least served the purpose of protecting him from monsters wielding sharp weapons. But the robes? He'd probably trip on the hem like the clumsy idiot he was and bash his skull open for good measure.

"Where are we going first?"

His mom sidestepped a bunch of old women congregated around a basket of what looked like amputated paws, creepily enough. Percy's face twisted in disgust. Didn't these people have laws against animal abuse and cruelty?

"Mh. I don't know." She took his letter out of her purse. Percy had given it to her as soon as he had realized there was no way he could read it without wanting to gouge his own eyes out. "Should we start with your uniform? Or your books?"

He didn't feel like starting with either. "You mean I get to pick between the books I can't read and the uniform that's probably robes? Jeez, what will I ever do?" he commented drily.

His mom jabbed him on the ribs. "Be serious, Percy. We need to start from somewhere."

Her hand slid from his side and grasped his own. Percy let her. He knew most kids his age would be beyond mortified to be seen walking hand in hand with their own mom and he probably would've been too in any other situation, but he wasn't blind as to how heavily their fast approaching separation weighted on her and he wasn't going to deny her that bit of contact.

"Well, how about we get my wand then?" he turned pleading eyes on her. A magic wand was just about the only thing he was interested in buying and if he had to beg then so be it! He made his eyes as large and endearing as possible.

His mom, of course, knew him too well to fall for it. "Absolutely not. You won't pay attention to anything else if we get your wand now. Consider it a reward for behaving."

Percy groaned. "That's so unfair!"

"Oh, hush! We are here." she pointed at an imposing building of white marble standing just on the intersection between two streets, towering over the neighbouring shops. "That's the wizarding Bank. Gringotts, I think it's called."

He studied the grandiose structure for a moment, shielding his eyes from the sun with an hand. "They sure like sober things."

"You have been to Olympus, haven't you?" she asked rhetorically as they started up the bank's white stairs.

Percy snorted. "That's the home of the Gods. I don't think they know how to _be_ sober."

"Fair enough." His mom stopped at the top of the stairs, forcing him to do the same to avoid bumping into her.

He gaped as his eyes fell on the majestic burnished bronze doors that stood guard to the wizarding bank. They were flanked by a...well, Percy didn't know what he – she? They? – was. The creature was short – he barely came up to Percy's chest, if even that – and fair-skinned with long, frail-looking fingers, pointed ears and nose and dark, slanted eyes. He was wearing a scarlet and gold uniform which did nothing for his complexion (damn, he had been spending too much time with Aphrodite's kids). Percy thought he kind of looked like the really unlucky cousin of dryads, with a few of their attributes but none of their beauty.

The creature noticed Percy's interest and sneered at him, a malicious glint shining in the depths of his pupils, but the peeved expression froze on his pale face upon closer inspection. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Percy felt suddenly ill at ease, and not just because of the guard's less than disinterested scrutiny. Ever since they had stepped foot into Diagon Alley over half an hour ago, they had been at the receiving end of a variety of looks – some curious, some questioning and a few even disgusted. Percy had learned to recognize the latter quite early in life. He guessed their clothes, so different from those worn by most people on the street, had a lot to do with it. Being in front of Gringotts made it worse. Everything about it screamed of opulence and they were...well, not as poor as they had used to be up until a few months ago, but still.

His mom tugged him forward, past the still staring guard and the doors, and into a small entrance hall separated from the main building by another set of doors. They were made of honest-to-Gods silver, probably in case some ignorant client still dared to doubt the bank's prosperity, and words were engraved upon them.

He squinted, trying unsuccessfully to make sense of the jumble of letters. The cursive and the reflective nature of the metal on which they were written didn't help any.

Seeing him struggle, his mom explained, "It's a warning of sorts to thieves." She read it out loud, which was a good thing because the letters were starting to do cartwheels across the doors. " _Enter, stranger, but take heed – of what awaits the sin of greed –For those who take, but do not earn, – Must pay most dearly in their turn. – So if you seek beneath our floors – a treasure that was never yours – Thief, you have been warned, beware – of finding more than treasure there._ "

"Real friendly. ' _Finding more that treasure there'_." He recited under his breath, so that no one else but his mom heard. "Sounds more like a threat than a warning."

She nodded. "Lily once told me the guardians of Gringotts are quite, ah, _protective_ of their gold."

A cold shiver crept down his spine at the reminder of the creepy sentry at the main doors. "Not to sound racist or anything, but...what are they exactly?"

"Goblins." She answered curtly.

They swept past the doors into a vast marble hall. Numerous counters stretched along its length, each one occupied by a goblin busy weighting either gold bars or precious gems. Percy glimpsed piles of rubies, emeralds and sapphires shining from every counter. He picked his jaw up from the floor. _Now_ he felt really poor.

Because of this, it took him a moment to realize that more than a goblin had swirled around on his chair at their entrance and was now staring at him interestedly.

"I feel under a microscope." He whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

His mom tensed. "I think they can feel you're not..." she trailed off.

Human, he finished in his own mind. They could feel he wasn't human. Maybe they could even smell the godly blood in him the way monsters did. It was more than a little unnerving.

They walked to a free counter, ignoring all the eyes on them. The goblin sitting behind it smirked at his colleagues, looking wickedly satisfied. If he thought they were going to cover him in riches just because Percy's daddy was a god, he was going to be terribly disappointed.

"Good evening." His mom smiled brightly at the goblin, who took his eyes off of Percy for only a second. He was beginning to understand what it meant to feel like a piece of meat. "We'd like to exchange some money." She handed him the dollars she had prepared in advance and the goblin disappeared somewhere behind the line of counters without saying a word.

Percy tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat at the sight of the money. "Er, Mom? I don't think we need that much for my school shopping."

She was studying a stack of golden coins a goblin nearby was counting with keen eyes. "But you'll need money for your stay at Hogwarts and for the trips to Hogsmade. It's better to be prepared."

"And..." he hesitated, "can we afford it?"

His mom turned to him with a soft smile. "You don't need to worry, Percy. I got enough money to last a while with the sale of...the statue."

Percy looked down, wringing his hands. Guilt and shame warred inside him. "I know, it's just...you've got your college tuition to think about too and –"

"Which has already been paid." She interrupted him forcefully. She grabbed his chin gently and tilted his face up. "You're sweet to worry about my life, Percy, but it's not your job. I'm your mother – I'm the one who needs to take care of you, not the other way around, ok?"

He nodded, a soft flush spreading across his cheeks. He didn't think he'd ever be able to stop worrying about his mom, but she didn't need to know that. She already thought his hero complex was out of control.

"Good," she bopped the tip of his nose with a finger. "because I meant what I said. We have enough money for both your education and mine."

Percy grinned. Jokingly, he asked, "Did you sell another statue?"

His mom smirked. "I haven't found another victim yet. I'll let you know as soon as I start dating again."

"You really don't need to."

There was a thing as too much information. He didn't want to know anything more than strictly necessary about his mom's sentimental life. As long as she was happy, so was he.

Their goblin reappeared, carrying a pile of golden coins and a handful of bronze and silver ones. He positioned them neatly on the wooden counter.

"Thirty-three galleons, fourteen sickles and twenty-five knuts." He illustrated, pointing respectively at the golden, silver and bronze coins.

Percy glanced at his mom to see her frowning.

"Is that – I mean...I don't know how the conversion from muggle to wizarding money works." That, thought Percy, was the diplomatic way of saying there was no way in Hades all the money they had given him could be worth only thirty-three galleons, whatever they were. "Could you perhaps explain it to us, Mr...?"

The goblin didn't seem insulted by the implication he had made a mistake. In fact, a fleeting smile crossed his otherwise stony face. "You may call me Targok. Galleons are almost entirely pure gold, Miss Jackson. There is only one other currency in the world purer than ours." He stared at Percy pointedly.

He had been about to question how the goblin had known their last name since they hadn't shared it, but he snapped his mouth shut as soon as the meaning of the creature's words hit him. There was no need.

The goblins didn't just suspect he wasn't human: they knew exactly what he was. He swallowed painfully.

"Not to worry, Mr Jackson." The goblin reassured with a smirk. "We value privacy above all else. Your secret is safe with us."

Percy found himself nodding, feeling strangely detached. He realized only then that his mom was squeezing his hand almost to the point of pain.

"Goblin – and wizarding – currency is easy enough to understand, with practice." Targok went on, unconcerned by the shocking nature of his revelation. "Twenty-nine knuts – the bronze coins – make a sickle – the silver ones – and seventeen sickles equate a galleon."

He called that easy? Percy was sure he was going to make a fool of himself every time he tried to buy something. Which, considering they were in Diagon Alley for his shopping, was in no way an encouraging prospect.

"There is one more thing you need to have before leaving. Your venerable father notified us of your probable visit and we were told to give you this."

He showed them a leather pouch. A trident and several Greek letters were intricately woven on the front and Percy could readily admit it was a thing of beauty, though a bit ostentatious for his tastes. He barely paid it any mind, his attention once again completely captured by the goblin's words. Had his dad really taken the time to talk to them on his behalf?

"His...venerable father?"

His mom's voice cracked slightly on the word 'venerable'. He put an arm around her shoulders, thinking the mention of his dad had saddened her as it often did, but when he turned, he saw a corner of her lips twitching upwards.

Okay. He didn't see what was so hilarious, but it was better than crying.

Targok nodded solemnly. "Unlike wand-bearers," he sneered at the word and Percy got the feeling the goblin didn't have much respect for magical folks, "we're aware that there is more to this world than our society and the muggle one. Your father, as most other members of his family, has a vault in almost every branch of our Bank."

He put the money in the pouch, where it disappeared without bulging the leather in the slightest.

Noticing Percy's fascinated gaze, the goblin explained, "This pouch has an extension charm on the inside. You can put in it all the money you want without it getting heavier or filling up. Its most important feature, though, it is that it's linked to your father's vault. Anytime you need money, you'll simply need to state how much you wish to withdraw and it will appear in the pouch. Of course, as a precautionary measure, the item is linked to your father's blood and through him, to your own. As such, only you will be able to use it."

His mom looked impressed and he wasn't that far off. Even by Greek world standards, that thing was pretty awesome. "It's pretty useful. This way, you won't have to come back to London every time you need money."

"Yeah." Said Percy. He looked at her. "You don't think Dad will mind?"

He had whispered the last part, but apparently goblins had better hearing than humans. Targok answered in his mom's place. "I firmly believe your Lord Father wouldn't have asked us to give you access to his money if he didn't wish you to have it."

Percy blushed. "I guess that sort of makes sense."

Targok handed him the pouch with a smirk and then slipped a key out of the front pocket of his uniform. It was made of celestial bronze.

"This," he waved it in front of their faces, "is a copy of the key to your father's vault. It contains more than just money, things that cannot be withdrawn through your pouch. Both of you are welcome to visit it, _but_ " he stressed the word, keeping the key out of their reach, "you'll need his express permission to take anything."

Percy stared at the key gobsmacked. One thing was for his dad to visit their apartment and talk to him; quite another was for the god to give them unlimited access to his vault. That was more trust than he had ever expected being shown by his father.

His other parent was the first to recuperate the gift of speech. "I guess that means we _really_ won't have to worry about budget."

Percy side-eyed her. She didn't sound as caught off guard as he'd have expected. As _he_ felt, in fact.

She took the key from Targok with trembling fingers.

"That appears to be all." The goblin got ready to dismiss them. "Do you need anything else?"

They didn't. They thanked Targok for his helpfulness and bid him goodbye. Percy waited until they were out of the bank and back into the stream of early afternoon shoppers to start his interrogation.

"So. Is this the first time Poseidon has ever helped us? Because you didn't seem particularly surprised by his generosity."

She wouldn't look at him. "Your father has never been stingy, Percy. It's not like he can't afford it."

That was one lame excuse. He snorted. "C'mon, Mom. You can do better than that."

"Ok, ok!" she held up her hands. "He has helped us out a few times in the past, when he could get away with it." She confessed. "He paid my medical expenses when you were born. He bought a few gifts for you during the years. That sort of things."

"Oh. I – I didn't know." Percy stammered. He suddenly felt suitably guilty about the things he had told his dad a few days earlier.

His mom stroked his cheek. "Of course you didn't, honey. I never told you."

Percy bit his lip, not in the least pacified. "It's just – I thought he had forgotten about us. That he didn't care. And I –" _basically called him a coward and a selfish asshole to his face_ , he concluded in his own mind. Okay, his dad probably deserved it for calling him a wrongdoing when they had met on Olympus – something Percy was going to throw back in the god's face for the rest of his probably short life – but he still felt like a bit of a brat. A vindictive part of him hoped Poseidon felt twice as bad.

Apparently aware of his internal turmoil, his mom tried to reassure him. "I think your father understands how you feel, Percy."

Percy wasn't sure about it. His dad had seemed accepting of his resentment for the most part, but it could just be that he simply didn't care what Percy thought or how he viewed him as a parent.

On the other hand, would he have been so eager to talk about his feelings and so disappointed when Percy refused if they really were of no consequence to him?

It was something to consider, but not at the moment. All that thinking was giving him an headache. It was frustrating. He fell back on his go-to response for sticky situations – humour.

"Because he's just so _venerable_?"

It was more than a bit weak – he really was off his game – but his mom laughed as if he had just told her the funniest joke ever. She was so out of it, Percy had to pull her to the side so they wouldn't get trampled by their fellow shoppers. Tears of mirth leaked from her eyes and she looked close to convulsions.

"Okay, what's going on? You were about to laugh in Targok's face too." He accused.

"It's just –" she hiccupped, "when he called your father 'venerable', I –" she broke down laughing again before she could get the words out.

Percy frowned. "Well, he's a god..." he pointed out softly, careful not to be overheard. He didn't want to end up in a padded room.

She snorted, her laughing fit subsiding. "Yeah, but...a bit of a dork."

He spluttered. "A _dork_?!"

"An adorable dork." A breathy sigh accompanied her declaration.

Percy gagged. He had been blessed to never hear his mom make that sound before and to think it was reserved for his father gave him the creeps, quite frankly. He already had enough mental problems without adding those kind of images to them.

 _Bad Brain! Stop thinking about it!_ He forced his mind to concentrate on other ventures, preferably some that wouldn't render him catatonic with disgust.

"Okay, that's enough. I don't need to know."

"No, you don't." She agreed. She blew the hair out of her face. "We really need to go or we'll be late for dinner with Harry."

Yeah, and hopefully he'd be able to forget this whole conversation and its implications. He shivered.

They went to get his uniform first, in a shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion. The name didn't promise anything good, but it turned out better than Percy had thought. Sure, the Hogwarts uniform had an outer robe, but it could be worn open-fronted and the most important pieces of the outfit were pretty normal. He'd have to wear black slacks, a white button-up, a grey sweater and a tie that would show the colours of his House at Hogwarts, as Madam Malkin had been kind enough to explain. All in all, pretty common. If one disregarded the robe – and Percy already knew he wasn't going to wear it often – it wasn't much different from uniforms he had worn in a few others of the many schools he had attended over the years.

After that, they went to get his books, which was a tragedy waiting to happen. He'd have the same core subjects as Harry, but he had chosen Arithmancy instead of Divination (which seemed to him like a bit of a joke if you weren't an oracle or one of the few Apollo kids blessed with a modicum of foresight. Also, he wasn't half bad with numbers.) and Care of Magical Creatures like his cousin because it seemed cool and he liked animals. He could've picked one more, but he didn't need Muggle Studies and trying to learn a new language was nothing short of educational suicide for someone with dyslexia, so Runes was out. The most interesting book he had to purchase turned out to be the one for Magical Creatures. It was alive. Like, literally alive. And quite on the violent side too, which meant it was just his kind of book (miracles _did_ happen to him too every once in a while). The librarian didn't seem to share his appreciation for fanged, homicidal artefacts. He used a cane to beat most of the rabid books into submission and grab one before they could get their rather sharp teeth into him, but Percy deduced he hadn't been as lucky with previous costumers by the bandages around his fingers and wrists. He pushed the restrained book in his hand, looking like a man defeated by life.

The Apothecary was next. The interior stunk worse than Smelly Gabe on a bad day, something like putrid eggs and rotten food. Jars of herbs and strange powders lined the walls and there was a line of barrels on the floor. His mom glanced into one of them and promptly left the shop, claiming she needed fresh air. Curious and a bit weary – because his mom didn't freak easily – Percy looked too. It took him a moment to realise what he was seeing. It was full of slimy stuff coated in blood – the eviscerated parts of some unlucky animal. He almost threw up on the spot. As soon as his mom got back in, they bought the basic ingredients for potion class. They left quickly after that, both of them looking a bit green around the edges. He seriously contemplated the idea of becoming a vegetarian just so he wouldn't have to see dead animals ever again.

They made a few more stops and then finally came the time to buy the one item Percy had been waiting to get the whole day: a wand.

There was only one shop that sold wands in Diagon Alley. Written in peeling golden letters, over the door of the shop was the inscription _Ollivanders: Makers of fine Wands since 382 B.C._

It wasn't what Percy had been expecting. It was tiny and gloomy. The smell of mould permeated the air, as if the door and windows hadn't been opened in years, and thick dust coated every surface. Behind the counter extended a seemingly endless maze of shelves and thousands of elongated packages rested messily on them.

Really, the whole room was dark and cold and dirty. Terribly out of place if compared to the rest of the colourful and vivacious street. It reminded Percy a bit of the Big House's attic. Not a compliment for any building.

"Well, it's not every day someone like you graces my shop."

Percy's hand flew to his pocket in a heartbeat, his fingers closing around Riptide. He moved in front of his mom, protecting her with his body. She made a sound of protest and tried to push him back, but he stood his ground.

From the shadows of the backroom emerged an old man. His hair was as white as freshly fallen snow and his eyes were grey. His skin sagged around his mouth, giving him a frowning expression. He was wearing an old-fashioned two-piece suit.

He noticed their tense posture and immediately apologized, an hungry glint in his eyes that did nothing to placate Percy's racing mind. "I did not mean to startle you. I'm Mr Ollivander and I welcome you to my humble shop. What may your names be?"

Percy hesitated. The old man's gaze was uncomfortably piercing, as if he could somehow stare into their souls. Percy felt the hair on the back of his neck and on his arms stand up. Now that he was paying him more attention, Percy realized that his eyes were more of a silvery colour and strangely familiar. They were stormy and deeply intelligent, almost as if their owner was always looking for a way to take you down in battle. He had glimpsed those same eyes staring at him out of different, younger faces the whole summer.

They were Annabeth's eyes.

But what did that mean? Was Ollivander a son of Athena? Was it even possible for a demigod to live this long? Percy certainly hoped so.

"Percy Jackson." He answered. "This is my mom, Sally." Then, hoping to get some sort of confirmation out of the old man, he added, "What did you mean by 'someone like me'?"

"Oh, just that I did not know who you were until you told me." The old man glided over to the shelves. "There aren't many I'm not acquainted with in wizarding society."

His mom had moved forward from behind him while they were talking. "We're from New York." She said. "That's probably why."

"Ah, yes." Ollivander took a few boxes down from the shelves and they levitated to the counter seemingly of their own accord. Percy stared, transfixed. "That would certainly explain it. That would explain _many_ things." He finished in a pensive tone. He stopped rummaging through the boxes and turned towards them. He tilted his head to the side, his sharp eyes fixed on Percy's face. "I have seen eyes such as yours only once in my life, child, a long time ago. The... _man_ they belonged to lives in New York like you. At least in this century."

That settled it.

He and his mom exchanged a loaded look. Like Percy, she had understood straight away that they weren't dealing with a mortal. The wizarding world was turning out to be a veritable minefield of unexploded dangers. Not only did the goblins know of the Greek world – and no matter how helpful, they could still be a threat – now they also had demigods popping up unexpectedly. What were the chances of Ollivander being the only one? And to think he had believed the Gods had stopped having children in Europe after moving to the U.S.

"Is this your first wand, Mr Jackson?"

"Er, yes. Is – is that a problem?" he wondered.

"Oh, no, no problem." Mr Ollivander assured him. A few more boxes floated to the table from the back of the shop. "I'm just surprised. You are a bit older than my usual first time clients."

"We didn't know Percy was a wizard until Professor Dumbledore found us." His mom explained.

Mr Ollivander hummed in a non-committal way. "What arm do you use to write, Mr Jackson?"

"The right one."

A measuring tape uncurled from the floor like a sleepy snake and rose to his arm.

"And what about your weapon of choice? What arm do you use?"

A sharp intake of breath alerted him of his mom's surprise. Apparently, she hadn't expected Ollivander to be so up front about their shared nature. For his part, Percy had to appreciate his straightforwardness.

"Er, still my right. But I train with my left too sometimes."

Mr Ollivander nodded. "It's always best to be prepared, isn't it? I predict you're going to be a hard client, Mr Jackson. You will need a special wand. Fortunately, I like challenges."

Before Percy could find anything to say to that, Mr Ollivander waved his hand and the tape fell to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. "For my wands, I mostly use three cores, though I have often experimented with other materials." He explained softly. "Unicorn hair produces consistent magic and it is difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are faithful wands, strongly attached to their owners and impossible to pass on to another wizard or witch for they will not accept a new master." Okay, thought Percy, loyalty was good. For people and for wands. "Though unicorns are amongst the most powerful magical beings, wands with this particular core may have difficulty producing powerful magic. Of course," he winked, "if your father is who I think he is, you'll have no problem channelling your magic through this kind of core.

"Dragon heartstrings, on the other hand, make for a powerful wand, but not particularly loyal. Its allegiance can be won in a duel. It is temperamental and accidents prone."

Percy decided there and then that dragon heartstring wasn't for him. He was 'accidents prone' enough on his own.

"The last core I use is also the rarest. Phoenix feathers. These wands are capable of great ranges of magic. They are full of initiative and often act of their own accord. Phoenixes are loyal creatures, but independent and picky on who to trust. It is hard to win their allegiance or that of a wand made with one of their feathers.

"Of course, there is also...but I digress. I believe both Unicorn hair and Phoenix feathers may be appropriate for you. I'm not sure about Dragon heartstring, but we'll just have to see."

He reverently handed him a wand. "Let's start with this one, shall we? Alder, ten and a half inches, unyielding, unicorn hair. Perfect for a stubborn, but helpful wizard."

"Well, stubborn he is." His mom commented. She had sat down on the only chair the shop provided.

Percy took the wand. The light wood was warm under his fingers.

"Wave it!" ordered Ollivander.

Feeling a bit like an idiot, Percy did as he was told, taking a moment to thank every deity on Olympus that no one at Camp would ever find out about this.

The wand trembled in his hand and a thin crack appeared on its surface, spreading quickly. Percy was about to throw it in Ollivander's general direction when the old man snatched it back.

"Absolutely not! Not powerful enough!" he mumbled for a bit to himself. "Try this. Apple, twelve inches, flexible, feather of a Phoenix. For a wizard of high aims and ideals."

Again, Percy waved the wand and again, the piece of wood responded by smoking and creaking ominously.

"No!" Ollivander ripped it from his hand. "Aspen, ten inches, flexible, hair of a unicorn. Strong-minded and determined."

It went on like that for over half an hour. Every wand he tried just about exploded in his hand. After the Aspen one, it was the turn of _'Blackthorn, eleven inches, unyielding, dragon heartstring. For a warrior.'_ which lasted a bit longer, but not long enough to satisfy Ollivander. _'Cherry, eight and a half inches, flexible, dragon heartstring. Lethal in combat.'_ imploded as soon as his fingers came in contact with it, taking good part of the shop's spartan decorations with it and sending shrapnel flying everywhere. _'Poplar, eleven and a half inches, flexible, unicorn hair. Integrity and clear moral vision.'_ didn't do anything, which Percy took as a good sign. His ignorance in all things magic earned him a sharp glare from Ollivander, who told him that it just meant the wand didn't mind him and not that they could work together. _'Sycamore, nine inches, unyielding, unicorn hair. Curious and adventurous.'_ threw itself to the ground and rolled as far away from Percy as it could. He gaped at it, deeply offended. Ollivander chortled and told him he was apparently too _'daredevil'_ even for Sycamore.

Unlike Percy, who was slowly but surely losing hope of ever finding a wand for himself, Ollivander was cheerfully jumping around the room, looking as if Christmas had come earlier. The more wands he destroyed, the happiest Ollivander appeared.

 _'_ _Yew, thirteen inches, unyielding, feather of a Phoenix. For a protector who is not scared of Death.'_ sprouted a few green and blue coloured sparks before going silent. Ollivander had seemed interested, and even impressed, but he had refused to clarify his mutterings. He had left the wand on the table instead of putting it back in the box, explaining it would work for him acceptably if they couldn't find a better match.

"Let's see..." Ollivander moved a few boxes around, murmuring to himself. Percy strained his ears, catching a few words here and there. "...Yew, not scared of Death...morality...strong ideals...loyalty above all...yes, yes...will make a good leader...determined and independent. I may have exactly...great potential, but not Willow...Vines? Hidden depths, but not powerful enough...Poseidon...mental, all of them...absolutely not Rosewood...ah! there it is!" he presented them a specially dusty box. It was a bit decayed around the edges, but Ollivander seemed incredibly proud of his find. "I have had this wand for over four decades. I can't seem to place it, but maybe its wait is finally over."

He extracted it from the purple velvet it had been resting on. It was long and a dirty white in colour, streaked with grey. And...Percy leaned forward. Yes, there were letters inscribed in its handle.

"Is that Greek?"

"Why, yes! I use Greek magic to enhance a few of my wands. Of course, I do not sell them to just anyone; that would be looking for trouble. This wand in particular," he turned it around in his hands, "is an experiment. Thirteen inches, unyielding. The wood is Ash. It is extremely loyal; it cleaves to its one true master and will never accept to be used by anyone else, even after its owner's death. Ash likes a wizard or witch who is not swayed from their ideals and who will fight tooth and nail to see them conquer. Its owner must be courageous and stubborn, but never arrogant. As you may know, ash trees are also sacred to a God in particular."

"Poseidon." Whispered his mom.

Percy jumped. He had been so enthralled in Ollivander's explanation, he had almost forgotten she was there.

"Poseidon." Repeated Ollivander. "It is said that Ash wood can prevent drowning and before Apollo's birth, Poseidon used the fire derived from this wood to predict the future at Delphi. Some of his children still are born with the Sight. Did you know?"

Percy could only shake his head and hope he wasn't one of those children. Seeing in the future probably wasn't as sweet a deal as it sounded.

"This takes us to the core of the wand. It's Thestral tail hair, something I rarely use because of its instability. Thestrals are magical winged horses that can be seen only by those who have witnessed death. For this reason, they are often hated and feared, but in truth they are peaceful creatures. Like every equine, they consider Poseidon their Lord, which should give you an, shall we say, _in_ with them. The quality this core really looks for in a master, though, is the ability to face Death without fear. As Yew accepted you, I have faith that so will this core." He offered Percy the wand. "Take it."

He didn't see what the horses of death had to do with him, beside being horses, but he wasn't going to complain. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the wood, a warm, tingling sensation sneaked up his arm and all the way to his chest. Sparks flew out of the wand, casting a soft blue glow against the walls of the otherwise dark shop. The scent of salt reached his nostrils; a fresh breeze caressed his skin; somewhere far away, he heard the waves rushing to the shore and the seagulls' call echoing over the vastness of the ocean. He was submerged in the sea, safe under tons of litres of water. The tension he had accumulated during the past week evaporated and for the first time in a long while he felt at ease.

Mr Ollivander's joyous clapping shattered the peace and brought him back to the real world. The sounds of Diagon Alley assaulted his brain. "Perfect! Absolutely brilliant."

His mom ruffled his hair in congratulation. She studied the wand over his shoulder (still no signs of that growth spurt, damn it). "It's really beautiful."

His eyes caressed the white wood and the finely carved letters. "It is." Almost as beautiful as Riptide, in fact. Still, there was something dangerously alluring in the sharp, deathly lines of a sword that a wand simply couldn't emulate.

"Beautiful and powerful." Mr Ollivander added. "I trust you won't let that power control you, Mr Jackson; it would be a pity."

The old man stared at him sternly for a long moment, but Percy refused to fidget. He had many flaws, but a thirst for power was not one of them. Mr Ollivander must have seen something that convinced him of his trustworthiness in his eyes because his lips distended into an honest smile for the first time since they had entered his shop.

"That would be seven Galleons, Miss Jackson.", was the only thing he said.

His mom paid and Mr Ollivander put the wand back in its box and wrapped it up.

Just as they were about to leave, he called back to Percy one last time. "I expect great acts of heroism from you, Mr Jackson. And I dare say I'm not the only one."

Percy took a deep breath. Right, no pressure at all. "Sir, talking about heroism...it would be best if what you know about me –"

"Know?" Ollivander interrupted. "I don't know anything, Mr Jackson."

With a wink, he disappeared back into the shadows of his shop, leaving Percy to wonder if everyone in the wizarding world was so damn weird.

/

/

The next few weeks before the start of term were busy and chaotic for both Harry and Percy.

After their dinner together, Harry had gone back to spending his days at Florean Fortesque, trying to complete his summer homework with little success. The excitement of the last week made concentrating on something as mundane as the Basic Laws of Transfiguration even harder. Every day he hoped Ron or Hermione would be in Diagon Alley to relieve him of the monotony of his holidays and every night he went to bed disappointed.

Rumours about Sirius Black and his daring, seemingly impossible escape from Azkaban kept circulating with more and more frequency. Everywhere he turned, he could see wizards and witches shaking their heads at the latest number of the Prophet, mumbling darkly of the Ministry's incompetence or sharing unbelievable theories as to how Black had managed what no one else had before him. A curfew had been issued to ' _protect the population_ ' and children weren't allowed to leave their homes without adult supervision.

People were scared. For twelve years they had lived in peace and now the wizard who was rumoured to have been Voldemort's right hand man was once again on the loose and more than capable of wreaking havoc on the tranquil existence of wizarding Britain.

More than once while walking aimlessly around Diagon Alley, Harry had felt observed, but when he had turned around he had been unable to find anyone shady. He suspected that either Fudge or Dumbledore had appointed someone to keep track of his movements and make sure he didn't leave the magical world.

It was annoying to realize they didn't trust him, but he had to admit he had never been good at toeing the line.

On the second to last day of his summer holidays, he received a letter from the Headmaster telling him that his newest aunt and cousin would be in Diagon Alley the next day so that Percy could depart for the Hogwarts express with him on September first.

There had been no sign of either of his best friends, but he consoled himself with the thought that at least he wouldn't have to get to King's Cross on his own. Hopefully, Ron and Hermione would already be there and he could tell them all about his for once exciting summer. With a bit of luck, Ron wouldn't treat Percy like some sort of interloper and Hermione wouldn't scare him away with questions on every mundane aspects of life in New York.

And maybe – just maybe – no one would attempt to murder him.

For Percy, the last weeks of summer were a bit less relaxing and a lot more nerve-wreaking.

The day after he came back from London, one of Hogwarts professors, a stern woman named Minerva McGonagall, knocked on their door at an ungodly hour of the morning, ready to start his tutoring sessions.

To say Percy hadn't been pleased would be a gross understatement.

"Pay attention, Mr Jackson." snapped professor McGonagall. "Transfiguration requires the utmost concentration."

Percy mumbled darkly under his breath, glaring at the match he was supposed to turn into a pin. Oh, yeah, concentrating had always come so _easy_ to him!

"Try again, Mr Jackson." Ordered the professor. "But this time use firm, decisive wand movements like I explained earlier. No need to twirl your wand all over the place."

Gods, why did that sound so bad? _Sick Brain!_

Blissfully ignorant of what dark places his teenage mind was wandering into, the woman went on, "Transfiguration is a precise art, almost scientific. You'll need to be always extremely careful if you wish to master it." She gave him a stern look over the rim of her square glasses. "Now, again."

Okay, he thought, if he could win a fight against the God of War he could do this too. He just needed to understand the nature of the magic.

What was it that Professor McGonagall had said? _"Transfiguration is a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object."_

In layman's terms, the aim of Transfiguration was to change something into something else. And to do that the magic had to be...fluid, right? Unhindered by the laws of physic. What element did he know that was fluid and changeable? Water, of course. Nothing could stop water. It changed shape and nature anytime it wanted. It was uncontrollable, erratic and even fickle. Your best friend one moment, your worst enemy the next, for all but those born of the sea like him. In his hands, it could be a deathly weapon and just as easily a life saving cure.

All he needed to do was think of that match as water and morph it the way he would do with his father's element.

He closed his eyes. He thought of how he had felt the first time he had touched his wand. He remembered the power that had surged in him in the Love Ride during his quest as he controlled thousand of litres of water with a simple thought. He felt the reenergizing effect of the Mississippi as it destroyed the poison in his veins and he thought of the comfortable weight of Riptide in his hands as it seamlessly reshaped itself from pen to sword.

 _Just like water._ That was the power of the ocean, the same power that coursed through his blood.

The match was like a stream, he told himself firmly. It was a stream, and it needed to turn into something stronger if it wanted to survive.

Percy took a deep breath. He flicked his wand, feeling the magic take shape under his command. He pronounced the incantation clearly, his voice strong, and –

"Well done, Mr Jackson! A perfect transfiguration, I dare say."

He opened his eyes. Where the match had laid only moments before was now a perfectly pointy pin. He grinned at Professor McGonagall, proud of his achievement, and he had the pleasure of seeing her no-nonsense expression softening into an indulgent smile, if only for a second. It wasn't often that a teacher complimented his work or looked at him with something other than indifference or annoyance.

"I have a feeling you'll have no problem with my subject, Mr Jackson."

It turned out she was right. Once he understood the mechanics behind it, Transfiguration came easily to him. Manipulating his powers to change objects was no different than manipulating bodies of water.

Charms was a Pegasus of a different colour. Percy's powers were simply too wild. They refused to be restricted into the simple spells Professor Flitwick tried to teach him. They always turned out to be more powerful than he intended and the poor professor spent half of his lessons repairing the damage he caused. Despite this, he was quite hopeful the only thing Percy lacked was control.

At least Flitwick, a midget of a man, was fun to be around. He always had a smile on his face and he had loads of interesting stories about the mishaps of former students to tell. He also seemed to like Percy, which was kind of a new experience for a boy who had always been hated on sight by teachers.

He studied the rest of his core subjects on his own for a variety of reasons. History of Magic didn't need to be explained by a tutor and neither did the theory behind Herbology (for 'real' lessons he'd need a greenhouse and he obviously didn't have one). The school still hadn't managed to hire a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor (the tale of what had happened to the last two had been in equal parts hilarious and horrifying. Two to one for Harry on the killing/otherwise injuring teachers count.), though Dumbledore had stopped by once or twice to give him a few pointers, and the Potions professor had categorically refused to tutor some "lazy, dunderhead student that hadn't even realized he was a wizard". What an asshole.

The books for his electives had been pushed in a corner of his room the night of his trip to London and he planned on leaving them there, forgotten, until he needed to pack. Not even the murderous and most probably carnivorous Care of Magical Creatures book was interesting enough to get him to read for recreation.

A part of him couldn't wait for the school year to start (a first, truly). A school of magic was bound to be better than any of the other schools he had gone to. Hopefully, he wouldn't get kicked out before the year was over and maybe he could even convince the Headmaster to invite him back next year. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, at least, seemed to think he'd do well at Hogwarts.

The only downside – and a rather big downside – was that he would have to leave his mom. He had gone to a number of boarding schools throughout the years, but always in New York, close enough to their apartment that they could see each-other every weekend, even if they didn't always take advantage of the possibility. Knowing that she was a phone call away had used to reassure him when things started going downhill – usually around the second month of school – or when the other kids picked on him, at least until he had learned to stand up for himself. Being the only child of such a young single mother meant that they weren't only parent and child, but also friends. They had grown up together.

This time he'd be in a whole other continent. Call him a 'Mama boy', but he wasn't keen on living so far from her for nine months.

He could tell that his mom felt the same. He'd occasionally catch her looking at him strangely, with a touch of melancholy, as if he was already on the other side of the world, out of her reach. When it happened, he'd usually hug her or bump their shoulders together. He made it a point to spend as much time with her as possible. He even accepted to accompany her grocery shopping, the only chore he hated so much he actively avoided most days.

His mom seemed to realize what he was doing, but she didn't call him out on it. She simply smiled and asked him if he wanted to bake blue cookies together. They ate a lot of blue cookies those final weeks of summer.

His last day in New York before the start of term came both incredibly fast and agonizingly slow. There were times Percy couldn't for the life of him tell where the past days had disappeared to; others it seemed to him as if time stood still.

The evening of August 30th , Percy and his mom fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, implicitly agreeing that they didn't want to sleep alone that night. As Percy closed his eyes, he felt at the same time hopeful and scared out of his mind for what was to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:**

Here we are. To be honest, I don't know how I managed to update in time. This chapter has been… _uncooperative_. I wrote the first part a month ago, but while I knew what I wanted to happen after that, I couldn't seem to find the inspiration. No matter how I wrote it, I hated it. So I left it behind, only to wake up on Friday and realize that no, inspiration had not struck and yes, I still had to write it.

I'm still not entirely sure what to think about it – a part of me hates it, in fact - but I hope you guys like it. Let me know!

The Weasleys and Hermione are finally introduced. I hope I get their characters right.

In a few days, I'll probably publish a **one-shot** connected to this story. It was supposed to be part of this chapter or maybe the next one, but it got too long and I decided to cut it. It's about Sally and it will be referenced in the main story.

 **To the guests who reviewed,** as always thank you and I hope you keep following this story.

 **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan own everything. I'm just having fun with their characters.

 **Chapter 6 – In which Dementors ruin everyone's day**

"Sally! Percy! Over here!"

Percy turned on his heels and almost stumbled on a stack of ripe looking pumpkins. The school-aged attendant tidying up outside of the shop glared at him murderously and moved to straighten the fruits. Percy grinned sheepishly and hurried to follow his mom to where he could see Harry waving at them.

His cousin was sitting at a table outside of an ice-cream parlour and he wasn't alone. In the seats on either side of him there was a girl and a boy his own age. The first sported a head full of messy brown curls; the second had violently red hair and a pale, freckled face. He was scowling at something the girl held on her lap, looking mightily pissed. Percy inwardly cringed: he hoped they weren't getting into the middle of an argument.

Luckily, Harry seemed relaxed and not at all as if his friends were about to tear each-other's throat out or something just as messy. He got up as Percy's mom reached his table and he accepted her hug with a smile, unlike the first time they had met, when he had almost jumped out of his own skin at the contact. What that said about his family life, Percy didn't want to think about.

"Hey, man." He greeted, stopping near his mom. He wasn't going to hug him, that was for sure. "How's it going?"

Harry grinned. "Can't complain. When did you get here?"

"Around half an hour ago." His mom answered. "We still haven't taken Percy's luggage to the Leaky Cauldron."

As if to prove her point, Percy held up his nearly bursting duffel bag. Together with his brand new trunk, it held everything he'd need while at Hogwarts, from clothes to books.

Harry grimaced. "That looks heavy. Why don't we–"

The girl cleared her throat loudly. "Harry, aren't you going to introduce us?" she made it sound like a question, but it was clear she wasn't really giving him a choice.

Harry coloured. "Er, of course. Sorry, guys." He scratched the back of his head. "Sally, Percy, this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, my best mates."

Mates? Was that British for 'friends'?

"Guys, I told you about Sally and Percy Jackson, my aunt and cousin."

Hermione beamed at them. Now that he was closer, Percy saw that she had dark brown eyes and freckles all over her sunburnt nose and cheeks. He wouldn't have described her as anything more than cute if not for her bright grin, which completely transformed her otherwise rather nondescript face. He felt an answering smile stretching his lips.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She gushed over-enthusiastically. "I couldn't believe it when Harry told us he had another aunt and cousin. I mean, it's quite odd. But in a good way obviously! And I'm so happy you're coming to Hogwarts! Percy, right?" his mouth hung open, but no word came out. He was blindsided by her spiel. She didn't need an answer, going on without even taking a breath. "You'll love it there. And if you ever need help, even if you're not in Gryffindor, you can – you know what Gryffindor is, right? At Hogwarts, there –"

"Hermione!" Harry half-shouted. "They get it. Just breath."

Both his cousin and his mom looked more amused than annoyed by the girl's eagerness. Percy was acutely reminded of some of the more lively campers from Cabin Eleven. He hoped Hermione didn't share their penchant for thievery too.

"Don't worry, mate." Ron Weasley told him. He had barely paid attention to Hermione's diatribe, too busy glaring at something under the table. Percy was almost scared to ask. "You'll get used to it. She's excitable."

Hermione glared at him. "Funny, Ronald. As I remember it, you were quite _excited_ too about meeting Harry's family an hour ago."

Ron flushed an ugly dark red in anger. "That was before that beast tried to do me in!"

Hermione retorted something scathing, but Percy wasn't paying attention anymore. "What are the chances that there _really_ is a beast loose in Diagon Alley?" he whispered to his mom.

She snorted. "With you here? High." Her eyes flitted from Hermione to Ron and back again; she appeared concerned by the escalating argument. "I think it's time to break that up."

She pulled a stammering Harry to the side. He had obviously been trying to get his best friends to cooperate with little to no success. "Ok, kids, that's enough!"

The sharp command froze Ron and Hermione; they snapped their mouths shut, turning a rather interesting shade of red as they remembered they had an audience.

"Thank you." His mom said, with that terrifying smile she wore every time he 'forgot' to tidy up his room.

A nervous glance passed between the two squabbling teenagers.

"Sorry." Hermione said. "We, ah, got carried away."

Percy shrugged. "No worries. Hey, what beast were you talking about?"

Ron's expression twisted in disgust and Hermione frowned, sending a withering look her friend's way.

"Crookshanks is not a beast." She stated firmly.

Perplexed, Percy was about to ask what in Hades a 'Crookshanks' was when something big and orange darted out from under the table as if summoned by the mere mention of its name.

Percy blinked at it. It was probably the ugliest cat he had ever seen. Its snout was squashed as if it had ran headfirst into a wall and its tail was a mess of knots. Despite this, Percy wouldn't have called it a beast. A bath and a grooming and it could probably look halfway decent. He had definitely seen worse around his old neighbourhood – and he wasn't talking about animals.

The cat moved between his mom's feet. It rubbed its head against her legs, purring contentedly.

She grinned. "Well, someone is feeling friendly." She picked it up, enticing another round of deeper purrs.

Ron scowled at the ground. "It's a beast. It tried to scalp me."

Harry rolled his eyes, obviously having had enough of the argument. "He saw Scabbers, Ron. I'm sure he won't do it again."

Ron's hand flew protectively to his pocket.

"Scabbers?" Percy wondered. He scratched Crookshanks behind an ear and the feline gave him an appreciative glance. Smart animal.

"Ron's rat." Hermione answered, fiddling with one of the bulging bags by her feet. "Crookshanks saw him and tried to do what every cat does."

"A rat is a strange choice for a pet." His mom commented. She put Crookshanks down and he scurried back to Hermione, looking pleased. "Lily used to have an owl."

"She did?" Harry asked immediately.

Percy felt the now familiar sense of irrational guilt at his cousin's feverish expression. He had so often complained, if only to himself, about not having a father that he had never truly considered there were kids who had it worse than him. He had his mom – and she was an incredible mom and woman – while Harry had gotten stuck with the apparently horrid eldest sister of their mothers. He couldn't even imagine what his life would be like as an orphan. Judging from Harry's hungry, hopeful expression at every scrap of information on Lily, it was nothing to write home about.

"Yeah. She had called him Apollo. Used to say he thought the Earth revolved around him."

Harry and Hermione laughed, obviously getting the reference, while Ron simply looked confused. Percy sent a silent prayer to Apollo, hoping he was the kind of god who saw the humour in things like that.

"Want to sit down with us?" Harry asked after their laughter had subsided. "Florean Fortesque makes the best ice-cream in Diagon Alley."

His mom hesitated. "We really should go to the Leaky Cauldron. We need to get Percy a room."

"Then..." Harry looked at his friends, waiting for their confirmation to his implicit question. They nodded and started gathering their belongings. "we'll come with you if you don't mind."

Both him and Ron grabbed one of Hermione's bags. She gave them an appreciative, thankful smile.

"Dude, whatever. As long as I get rid of these books." Percy kicked the trunk lightly for good measure. "I'm getting tired of lugging them around with me."

Hermione's eyes brightened. "Did you already read any of them? What electives did you choose?"

Ron groaned. "Mate. Rule number one: we never mention books around Hermione."

The girl ignored him, skipping ahead of her friends to walk side by side with him and his mom. "I decided to take all of them. I simply couldn't choose! They all sound so interesting!"

His mom appeared alarmed. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"That's what I said." Echoed Harry behind them. "You'll burn yourself out, Hermione."

Hermione waved their objections away, appearing vexed. "I've got everything under control. I worked it all out with Professor McGonagall."

Percy and his mom exchanged a glance. While he would be the first one to admit Professor McGonagall was an exceptional teacher, she didn't always seem aware of what kind of pressure students were under. She had expected him to learn the whole Transfiguration curriculum of the first two years in only a few weeks, after all.

"Well, just be careful." His mom cautioned. "Studying can take a lot out of you. I remember how it was for me in High School."

It seemed to him as if she wanted to add more, but the realization that she knew nothing about Hermione and was in no position to judge her choices stopped her.

" _What_ are you taking, Percy? You never told me." Harry repeated.

"Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy. New languages are not for me and Divination sounds like a waste of time. No offence." He hurried to add.

Ron shrugged. "Nah. It's why I chose it."

Harry jabbed him in the ribs just as Hermione launched herself into another tirade.

"Ronald! You should think about your future. That's what electives are for! Not so that you –"

"And I don't need Muggle Studies." Percy cut her off. He had already realized that Hermione could go on indefinitely unless someone stopped her. "Since I grew up mor-muggle and everything."

His mom winced at his slip of tongue, but none of the other three seemed to have noticed it.

"Talking about that," he turned to Hermione, frowning, "Why are you taking Muggle Studies? You are muggleborn, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded. "I thought it would be interesting to study them from the point of view of wizards." She said eagerly.

Percy stared at her, half of him expecting her to yell 'April's fool!' even though it was the end of August. Man, she was mental. Not even Athena's kids were so obsessed. In fact, he was pretty sure Annabeth would consider studying something she already knew everything about a waste of time.

"Oh, that's...nice." that didn't sound sarcastic at all, Percy, good job!

Honestly, he didn't know what else to say. Sign me up too for an hour of napping? He didn't think that would go over well and, despite common belief, he _did_ have a few verbal filters in place. Luckily for him, Harry intervened.

"Are you staying for dinner, Sally?"

His mom nodded. "Yeah, but I won't be able to stay late."

"My family is here too." Ron said. "And also Hermione. We'll be going to King's Cross together tomorrow."

"Mr Weasley has been given permission to use ministry cars so we'll travel comfortably." Hermione explained.

Percy frowned. "Do they do that often? Let people use ministry cars?" Course, Dumbledore had said that Harry was quite famous in the wizarding world so maybe it had something to do with that.

A line appeared between Hermione's eyes. "It _is_ a bit odd..."

Ron shrugged, unperturbed. "Dad works at the ministry." He said simply, as if that explained everything.

Maybe it did. Percy didn't know enough about wizarding society to judge what was normal and what wasn't. He noticed that Harry hadn't said anything. His cousin looked quite grim and Percy wondered exactly what he knew or suspected that they didn't.

"It's probably because of Sirius Black." Hermione murmured. She had a contemplative frown etched on her face and her eyes had glazed over.

Percy knew that look. He had seen variations of it on his best friend's face the entire summer.

His mom's eyebrows rose. "Sirius Black? The name sounds familiar. Who is he?"

"Maybe you heard something on the muggle news." Harry said. "They talked about him."

She didn't look convinced in the slightest. "Perhaps..."

Hermione nodded, her wild hair bouncing in every direction. Percy hastily moved back to avoid being slapped in the face. "Of course, they couldn't say what he really did."

"Which is...?" Percy prompted, tired of their beating around the bush.

Ron glanced around surreptitiously before answering in a mumble, so softly Percy had to lean forward to hear, "He was a supporter of You-Know-Who. He killed thirteen people with a curse after," he side-eyed Harry, "after You-Know-Who died."

"Ok. That's...bad, really bad, but..." he trailed off, "I don't know who." He stage whispered.

Ron stared at him uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"He means Voldemort." Harry explained with an eye-roll.

Hermione stumbled on her own two feet and Ron paled, his freckles standing out starkly against his suddenly deathly white skin.

"Harry!" he hissed. "Don't say his name!"

Harry ignored him. "Most people call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because they are scared to use his name."

Percy and his mom glanced at each-other, wondering if they should laugh or if Harry was being serious.

"They think it's gonna summon him or something?"

It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. One of the many things he had learned in the last few months was that names had power, at least in the Greek world. It could be the same for the wizarding one.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "I don't think he's in any shape to be summoned."

"Still, people don't like it when you use his name. It's not respectful." Hermione pointed out.

Harry glared at her. "I should have respect for him? Or for those who still fear him even after twelve years?" he bit out. Hermione flushed, but before she could retort (or maybe backpedal), Harry went on, "And anyway, Dumbledore said that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

That sounded deep and philosophical and exactly like something Gandalf would say. He was starting to doubt Dumbledore's real identity.

"This Sirius Black," his mom brought them back on track, her voice uncertain, "why's everyone worried about him? If he is a known Voldemort supporter, shouldn't he be in prison?"

Hermione grimaced, but she didn't comment on his mom's use of Voldemort's name, maybe worried about Harry's reaction. "He was. In Azkaban, the wizarding prison. He broke out a few weeks ago. They still haven't found him."

"Does that happen often? Inmates breaking out of prison."

Ron shook his head. "No, no one had ever managed to evade from Azkaban before him." His voice turned apprehensive, "They say he used dark magic taught to him by You-Know-Who."

Hermione snorted loudly, attracting a glower from Ron. The speed with which he reacted to her wordless protest was truly inspiring, thought Percy.

"Please, dark magic has nothing to do with it. He probably found a clever loophole and took advantage of it."

Ron's mouth twisted in fury. "Oh, really? And I bet you know how he did it too, mh?"

As their previously civil discussion degenerated into another spat, Percy glanced at his mom. Her face looked carved in stone.

"Everything okay?"

"It seems Dumbledore forgot to tell us a few things."

Percy curled an hand around her elbow and tugged her closer to him. "You're worried about this Black guy."

She bit her lip. "Of course. I just can't help but think I should remember his name."

Percy frowned. "They haven't said anything in the news, have they?"

"No. I must have heard it somewhere else. I just can't remember where." She grabbed his hand forcefully and turned him to face her. "Percy, promise me you'll be careful. I don't want you getting in trouble."

Percy stared at her bewildered. "Mom, I–"

"We are here!"

They whirled around. Harry had sounded a bit strained and Percy saw that he was maintaining a careful distance between himself and his two friends, who were still glaring daggers at each-other.

They had stopped in front of a brick wall. Percy glanced around, hoping to spot the infamous Leaky Cauldron before the strap of his duffel bag sawed his shoulder straight to the bone, but nothing jumped out to his eyes.

"And what's here?"

"The Leaky Cauldron, of course." Harry pointed at the brick wall, a shit-eating grin alight on his face. "What else?"

There had to be a joke in there somewhere.

Hermione rolled her eyes, breaking up her glaring contest with Ron. "Ignore him, Percy. I'll show you."

She retrieved her wand from her pocket and Percy stared fascinated as she tapped it against a seemingly random spot on the wall.

One by one and almost noiselessly, the bricks shifted, revealing a weed-infested walled courtyard framing a mouldy, scraped door.

Impressive. Well, he amended, not the courtyard itself, which was in fact quite a depressing sight, but the method of concealment was nothing to scoff at.

"The Leaky Cauldron is the gateway between the magical and the muggle world." Hermione explained as they walked into the hole in the wall. "Muggles can't see it, but this wall was built as a last precaution, to protect Diagon Alley in the event of an uprising in the non-magical world."

"I didn't remember this from my visit here with Lily." His mom admitted.

They entered the pub and Percy was at once hit by the revolting smell of alcohol and sweat. He shifted uneasily, painfully reminded of Smelly Gabe.

He didn't know what he had been expecting from the most famous pub in magical Britain, but it was something better than this. The Leaky Cauldron was shabby and dark; there were a few old tables pushed against the walls and rickety chairs placed around the room seemingly with no system. The only thing that didn't look about to crumble to dust was a wooden staircase leading upstairs to where Percy imagined the rooms were.

There were few patrons hiding in the shadows of the bar. Percy spied someone – or _something_ – hidden by bulky black robes drinking beer and a group of old men cackling around shots of a reddish liquid he didn't recognize. They all looked drunk.

He pulled a face.

"Who do we need to talk to for a room?"

His mom's voice reached him as if from a great distance. He wretched his mind away from the memories of his odious stepfather and concentrated on her. She had a sort of deer-in-headlights look and Percy cursed himself for not realizing sooner he was not the only one effected by the pub's atmosphere. Her eyes flickered wildly from the drunk men to the exit, as if expecting one of them to suddenly get up and attack her and wondering how long it would take her to get out of there.

His throat constricted. He felt as if a giant hand was squeezing the life out of him. This wasn't right. _It wasn't right._

Wherever he was, Percy fervently hoped Smelly Gabe's spirit was suffering the worst tortures imaginable to man _and_ god.

Harry stared at them thoughtfully, but he didn't comment on their mood swing, for which Percy was thankful. It was not the time nor the place to tell him about his former stepfather. He didn't know if it would ever be. "You can ask Tom, the bartender."

He nodded towards a bald man dressed entirely in black. He was rather busy scrubbing a greasy rag down the length of the counter, smearing it with even more grime. As Percy and his mom walked up to him, he heard Ron saying that they would be looking for his family in the meantime.

They rejoined Harry and his friends almost half an hour later, after having _finally_ discarded his luggage and made use of the bathroom.

The three teenagers were surrounded by a gaggle of red-heads of various ages. From the shade of their hair and a number of other common traits, Percy guessed they were Ron's family. Harry had never mentioned that his best-friend had so many siblings.

"There you are!" Harry grinned at them. He waved them forward. "These are the Weasleys, Ron's family. Guys, this is Sally and Percy, my aunt and cousin from the States."

As the plump, red-headed woman that was obviously Ron's mom squeezed the godly blood out of him with a completely unwilling and entirely unneeded hug, Percy couldn't help but think that it was going to be an excruciatingly long evening.

The things he did for family.

/

/

Dinner with the Weasleys was a messy, but vivacious affair.

Percy sat near Harry and he took it upon himself to explain to his cousin the more extravagant dishes the wizarding world had to offer.

Hermione sat in front of them. Harry heard her describe her holyday in France to Ginny, all the places she had visited and how it had helped her complete her essay on witch-hunts for Binns. Ginny seemed suitably interested, way more than Harry himself would've been to be honest, and he was glad to see her looking relaxed.

Things hadn't been easy for the youngest Weasley after someone –probably one of the Malfoys – had leaked information on her involvement in the whole Chamber of Secrets debacle. The last few weeks of her traumatizing first year at Hogwarts had been miserable. Students, even those who had called themselves her friends, had avoided her like the plague and she had found solace only in the company of her older brothers and their friends. The time spent in Egypt with the eldest Weasley son seemed to have done her well. Harry could only hope her rediscovered enthusiasm wouldn't wane once they got back to school.

Near the two girls, at the end of the table and as far away from their mother's bat ears as possible, were the twins. They had been speaking in undertones since the beginning of dinner. Harry suspected they were plotting something untoward, probably at their older brother's expenses. Percy Weasley had always been an easy target for Fred and George, possibly because he was just so infuriatingly pompous and easily irritable.

The newly appointed Head-Boy himself sat on Hermione's other side, impeccably dressed in brand new black robes. He was boring Percy – the _other_ Percy – to tears with an in-depth explanation of the internal workings of magical Britain politics.

"As a muggleborn who is about to take his first steps into magical society," he was explaining in a self-important tone, "you need to know the who is who of our world. You don't want to be considered ignorant of our customs and laws."

"Of course not! That would be an utter _embarrassment_!" Percy put an hand across his chest, his voice positively dripping enthusiasm.

How Ron's brother couldn't detect sarcasm in that statement was beyond Harry.

The older boy swallowed a bite of roasted potato. "I'm Head-Boy at Hogwarts." He tapped the golden pin on his chest to emphasize his point. "With the exception of the professors, I'm the highest authority inside the castle. My future employees are going to keep that into consideration. That's what you should strive to achieve during your time at Hogwarts, unlike some," he side-eyed the twins with a frown, "who waste their time following useless endeavours. Remember this, young Perseus, and you won't have problems at Hogwarts."

Though he nodded, it was obvious from his failure to correct him on his name that Percy hadn't listened to a word that had come out of the red-head's mouth.

Harry stifled a laugh, promising to himself that he would save younger Percy from older-and-way-more-annoying Percy before the end of dinner.

Sitting by her son, Sally had gotten stuck into a conversation about traffic lights with Mr Weasley, but every time he tried asking anything of relevance, Mrs Weasley would scold him for annoying her. It was clear Sally didn't know with whom to side.

Now that he saw her near the Weasley parents, it became even more obvious to Harry just how young she was. She had been barely older than Percy Weasley when her son was born and should still have been in school. Mrs Weasley seemed to have realized this too. She treated Sally as one of her kids more than as a fellow adult. If his aunt found that in any way annoying, she didn't give it away.

"Sally, dear, don't mind my husband. He's obsessed with muggle stuff!"

Mr Weasley shook his head furiously and waved his fork in his wife's general direction. "It's not obsession, LollyMolly!" he ignored her outraged _'Arthur!'_ , turning to Sally, "My wife doesn't understand the sheer ingenuity of muggles. It's incredible how you manage to survive without magic!"

Harry saw Percy frown, as if he couldn't decide whether to be offended or not. Quite frankly, Harry had felt the same on more than one occasion.

"Oh, Arthur, just let the poor girl eat!"

Sally's left eye twitched. Percy made a strange sound at the back of his throat, the child of a groan and a smothered laugh. His mother glared at him.

"You are wasting away, my dear. Why don't you try a bit of–"

Apparently that was the last straw for Sally.

"Actually," she interrupted Mrs Weasley firmly, "there's something I'd like to know."

Mrs Weasley put down the spoonful of soup she had been intending to fill Sally's plate with.

"About Sirius Black." Sally went on. "Dumbledore _forgot_ to tell us there was an escaped convict on the loose in Britain."

Her words had the same effect of Snape entering a classroom full of first years. They all turned to stare at the adults and even Ron, sitting at his left, stopped stuffing his face long enough to raise his eyes from his plate.

Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged concerned glances.

"Sirius Black, dear?"

Sally nodded. Harry had expected her to enquire about the measures that had been taken to protect the population and possibly the school, but she surprised him.

"Did you know him? Before he was revealed as Voldemort's supporter, I mean."

The reactions to Voldemort's name were as expected. Percy Weasley's fork clattered to the floor, Mrs Weasley paled and Ron choked on his food. Harry patted him on the back absentmindedly, avidly staring at the face-off in front of him. It was his chance to find out what was really going on and why everyone was so worried about him.

"You shouldn't use his name." Mr Weasley cautioned. "No, we didn't know Black personally, though we had heard of him even before he...did what he did."

Harry's gut told him Mr Weasley was lying or at least omitting part of the truth. From the meaningful glance that passed between Sally and Percy, he wasn't the only one suspecting Mr Weasley of knowing more than he let on.

"How did you hear of him?" Percy asked. "Was he famous or..." he trailed off, obviously waited for either of the Weasley parents to fill in the blanks.

Mr Weasley waved his glass. "No, no. Magical Britain is quite small, Percy. Everyone knows everyone. The Blacks were once a powerful and ancient pureblood family whose members had always occupied important positions in our government, though almost all of them had a rather strong inclination for the Dark Arts. Some believed Sirius Black to be different – _better_ – but, well," he shrugged, "turned out they were wrong. But you have nothing to worry about, Sally. The ministry is taking care of everything. Black will be back in custody before long."

After that dinner was a bit tamer, the atmosphere quite tense, but they all did their best to ignore it and have fun.

They had just finished digging into a delicious chocolate pudding when Professor Dumbledore entered the pub, followed by a cold gust of wind. As the rest of their group got up to welcome him, Sally called both Percy and him to the side.

"I wanted to give you this before I left." She said in a low tone, pushing a rectangular package in his hands.

He opened it with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the woman would feel the need to give him. Pictures spilled out.

"Oh." He mumbled, taken aback. A red-haired, green-eyed teenager smiled at him from the glossy muggle photographs, sometimes alone, sometimes joined by a younger, blue-eyed girl. "This – this is – ?"

Sally came to his rescue. "Your mom and me, before our parents died. There are also a few pictures of her wedding. I made copies."

Harry swallowed the painful lump in his throat. His eyes prickled uncomfortably. "Sally, I..." _I don't know what to say._ He hoped Percy hadn't noticed he was close to tears. "Thank you. Really."

She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. She smelled of old paper and freshly cut grass. "Be careful, Harry, ok?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He picked his head up from against her shoulder and pulled away. Percy bumped delicately against him.

"And you," Sally took her son's hands in her own, "try not to get into too much trouble. I don't want to get a letter from your teachers until at least the end of the month."

Percy ran an hand through his dark hair, looking quite gloomy. "I'll try."

The two embraced for a long moment and Harry feigned interest in a couple of old witches playing chess so he wouldn't see their tears.

Sally let Percy go with one last kiss on his head just as Professor Dumbledore reached them.

"Harry, Percy." He greeted. "I hope you had an enjoyable dinner." Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Sally, "Are you ready, my dear?"

She nodded and bid goodbye to the Weasley family and Hermione, getting a motherly hug from Ron's mom.

With one last loving glance to her depressed looking son and a promise to write, she accepted Dumbledore's hand and together they disappeared.

/

After Sally's departure, they lingered for a while longer in the bar before Mrs Weasley decided it was time for them to go to sleep. They all obeyed in various degrees of annoyance. Ron tried to convince her to let them stay downstairs for a few more hours, but she stood firm. Percy, the one Harry would have pegged as a rebel by nature, no matter the situation, trudged upstairs without a complaint. He guessed he wanted to be alone.

Harry as well was quite happy to go to his room, though he didn't say that to Ron. Not only he wanted to rest before their first day back at Hogwarts, but he also wished to study Sally's gift in peace.

He had been just about to sit down and stare mesmerized at the pictures in question when he was rudely interrupted by furious shouts coming from the room next to his.

He put his shoes back on and went to check, wondering what could possibly have happened to send his best friend – there was no mistaking his voice – into a rage.

The door was ajar. Harry stuck his head into the room, coming face to face with Percy Weasley's backside. The older boy was on all four on the floor, his head and shoulders disappearing under the bed.

"It was here!" he was saying, his voice muffled by thick wood and heavy covers. "I left it on my bedside table for only a moment! You _must_ have moved it!"

On the other side of the room, Ron raised his head from his trunk to roll his eyes. "I already told you, Perce. I haven't seen your bloody pin! Get over it!" he noticed Harry staring at them from the threshold and his whole face brightened. "Harry! I can't find Scabbers' tonic. Could you check downstairs? If I leave this room before packing mom will have my head."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, not keen on getting in the middle of a row between siblings. He had learned to fear them in the past two years.

A door on his right opened as he walked down the corridor and a head full of wavy black hair poked out.

"Hey, man." Percy said, his voice alert even though it was obvious he had just rolled out of bed. "What's going on?"

Harry shrugged. "Percy – Weasley, I mean – misplaced his Head Boy badge and he is blaming Ron for it, while _Ron_ lost the tonic for his rat, but he can't leave his room because he hasn't packed, so he asked me to check if he had left it at the bar."

Percy stepped fully out of his room and closed the door. Instead of pyjamas, he was wearing sweatpants and a frayed Led Zeppelin T-shirt. "Mind if I join? I'm not sleepy."

Harry shrugged again, feeling a bit repetitive. "Suit yourself."

They were halfway down the passage to the bar when the sounds of another argument stopped them in their tracks. They looked at each-other, listening to the familiar voices coming from below.

"Sounds like the Weasleys." Percy whispered.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

He would've gladly ignored the whole thing and quietly gone back to his room, but Percy moved closer to the door of the pub, leaving him no other choice but to follow.

And okay, maybe he _was_ a bit curious, even if it made him feel like a busybody.

"They are talking about you." Percy said, motioning him forward, apparently unperturbed by their spying.

Harry looked at him strangely. He strained his ears, hoping to catch parts of the conversation.

"– doesn't make sense, Arthur!" Mrs Weasley was saying. "The less Harry knows the better off he'll be. He isn't an adult!"

Percy snorted, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _'classic'_.

"He isn't a little kid either!" Mr Weasley countered loudly.

"Keep your voice down, Arthur!" Mrs Weasley reprimanded sternly. "What if the children heard you?"

Silence engulfed them, as if wife and husband were waiting to see if one of their children would jump out from under the table. Harry and Percy held their breath.

After a while, just when the two boys were beginning to think the conversation was over , Mr Weasley went on. "Molly, I know you worry about him. So do I, you know that, but ignorance won't keep him safe, not this time."

"And knowing that Black wants to kill him will?" she asked shrilly.

Harry took a hasty step back, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach. His head smacked painfully against the wood covered wall and the sound would have surely given their position away if Mr Weasley hadn't chosen that moment to bang his fist on the table. The loud _thud_ reverberated through the tiny space they were hiding in and Percy flinched violently.

Harry glanced at him questioningly, but the other boy just brought a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But at least he'll think twice about wandering the castle _or the grounds_ at night! You know how he, Ron and Hermione are, Molly: always up to something. They can't leave a mystery well enough alone!"

He took offense to that. It wasn't like he willingly went looking for trouble. _Trouble_ usually found _him_.

Beside him, Percy smothered a snicker in his shoulder.

"They have been lucky, Molly, but what happens when that luck runs out?" there was a hint of fear in Mr Weasley's voice, "What then? Sirius Black isn't just a powerful wizard. He's smart and driven: he'll do anything to get his hands on Harry. He _needs_ to be warned."

Mrs Weasley sighed and Harry knew her husband had won that round. "Do what you think it's right, Arthur. But don't believe for a moment I agree with you. You are forgetting Dumbledore _and_ the Dementors. You'd have to be crazy to even think about going past them."

"Black already did it once and he never was what I'd call sane."

The woman's answer was lost under the scraping of chairs against the floor. Percy grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into the pub and out of sight. They waited with baited breath for the adults' steps to fade into the distance.

Harry fell into one of the recently vacated chairs.

Black wanted to kill him. Well, that explained a great deal of things – Fudge's leniency the night he had run away from Privet Drive, Dumbledore's worry, the fact that Mr Weasley had been given ministry cars...it was all to protect him from Black.

"Harry?"

Harry's head snapped up: he had forgotten his cousin was there.

"You ok?" Percy asked.

"Yeah." He answered without thinking. To be honest, he wasn't sure how he felt. He wasn't _scared_ of Black – well, okay, maybe just a little bit, but he was getting used to people trying to do him in, so that at least was nothing new. He was more worried about what that meant for his chances to go to Hogsmeade.

And he felt slightly betrayed that no one had thought to tell him – didn't he deserve to know the truth? Hadn't he proved that he could take it? – but he also agreed with Mrs Weasley: nowhere was safer than Hogwarts. Dumbledore was there and he was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared and if those Azkaban's guards were as terrifying as everyone kept implying...

"Found it! I think..."

Percy's voice roused him from his reverie. "What?"

His cousin dangled a bright red bottle in front of his face. "Ron's tonic or whatever this thing is."

"Oh, right." Harry took it. "It's for Scabbers. He has been feeling down lately." He explained without even knowing why. He doubted Percy cared all that much about Ron's pet problems. "Thank you."

Percy shrugged. "You looked quite engrossed over there. I thought I'd better make myself useful."

Harry grinned at him. Percy sure could be odd, but he was friendly enough and pretty non-judgemental. Ron and Hermione would have been freaking out had they overheard such an alarming conversation; Percy, on the other hand, hadn't lost his composure even for a moment. Maybe basic lack of survival instincts was genetic.

"I was thinking about Sirius Black."

"I thought as much." Percy gave him a friendly shove. "Don't worry about it, man. I've got your back."

He winked and made his way upstairs whistling, as if finding out your cousin was the target of a serial killer was everyday's stuff.

Harry shook his head, feeling strangely relieved by Percy's words. Yeah, he was definitely weird – and a bit on the violent side too, he added, massaging his shoulder – but his heart was in the right place.

For the first time, he was glad Percy had chosen to attend Hogwarts.

/

/

Percy closed the compartment's door, cutting off Hermione's voice. He sighed, leaning his head back against the wooden panels of the Hogwarts Express. He liked Harry's friends, he really did. Ron was funny and humorous in his own clueless way and Hermione was clever and stubborn, both qualities he appreciated very much. But Gods were they a handful!

They had done nothing but bicker the whole time. First about Sirius Black after Harry had shared the conversation they had overheard and then about Hogsmeade and whether Harry should try to convince Professor McGonagall to let him go even without the signed permission slip. It was a miracle the man, apparently a future professor, sleeping in their compartment hadn't woken up.

Percy pushed himself away from the wall and set out down the hallway. His head felt like a god was using it as a bongo and he hoped a bit of water would make him feel better.

The train rolled steadily through the Scottish hills, swaying slightly. It was getting dark outside and the old fashioned lamps that decorated the cramped hall had been turned on a few minutes earlier. Hermione had told him just as he was leaving the compartment that they weren't far from Hogwarts.

The bathroom was bigger than should've been possible inside a train, but Percy wasn't going to whine. He splashed ice cold water on his face, seeking relief from the pounding pain in his head.

He looked up and found himself staring at his reflection in the adorned mirror hanging above the sink. He grimaced. His hair was an utter mess of curls and there were prominent dark shadows under his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink the night before. He had laid awake in his bed, tossing and turning. He had been thinking about his mom, wondering how she'd fare home alone and questioning for the umpteenth time the wisdom of moving across the ocean to attend school. Now that he knew about the Greek world he couldn't help but fear that a monster would attack her when he wasn't there to protect her.

That wasn't the only thing keeping his mind from sleep. While he had hopefully hidden it well from Harry and the others, this Sirius Black business worried him. The convict had managed to escape from a high security prison undetected and he kept eluding the authorities day after day. It was clear they were no closer to capturing him despite what Mr Weasley had told his mom. Would Harry really be safe at Hogwarts? Percy didn't believe even for a second that a school was somehow more protected than a prison. He couldn't shake the certainty that Black would find a way in.

With such depressing thoughts clouding his mind, he left the bathroom to go back to his shared compartment, but he stopped along the way to stare out of a window.

Even though by then it was pitch black outside, he could still catch glimpses of Scotland's wild landscape. There wasn't even the shadow of a building in the distance. Everything appeared green and brown to his eyes, so incredibly different from New York.

Percy already missed his city. He missed its imposing skyscrapers and he missed its rivers and its parks. He even missed the crazy morning traffic and the taxi-drivers disturbing the quiet of the night with their impatient honking.

Mostly, he missed his mom. His dad too, which was strange because the god had never been in his life. And yet being far from him made him... _uneasy_. Even before he knew the truth about his dad, he had always felt like he was not alone. It was almost a sort of vibration in the air, a buzzing in the back of his mind. A string that connected him to the Gods and to the sources of their powers. He could follow it and find Olympus or Camp even with his eyes closed.

Here in Scotland, he had nowhere to turn to for protection. He was isolated.

He hoped coming to Hogwarts hadn't been a mistake.

At least he was getting along with his cousin. Harry was cool and Percy was sure he wouldn't hesitate to help him should he need it. Unfortunately, there were things the other boy couldn't know.

Of course, keeping his secrets, well, _secret_ would probably be harder than he had originally imagined. Just that morning he had been introduced to Harry's owl, a snowy white female named Hedwig, and she hadn't been happy to see him. She had screeched angrily and flapped his wings threateningly at him, as if his mere presence in the same room as her was an offence deserving of death. Harry had tried to calm her down and he had reassured him that she was usually friendly and welcoming with his friends.

"Maybe she didn't sleep well or something." Hermione had suggested, earning a hateful glare from the enraged bird.

Percy could admit he probably hadn't helped, calling her entire race a bunch of flying roasted marshmallows filled with nothing but seething hatred. Harry had looked quite scandalized that he would insult his beloved pet and the owl in question had seemed ready and willing to scratch his eyes out.

The Weasley siblings, on the other hand, had found the whole situation quite entertaining. With the exception of other-Percy, of course. He seriously doubted that guy even knew the meaning of the word 'fun'.

This comedy sketch had cost them a few precious minutes. They had rushed to the ministry cars waiting for them outside of the Leaky Cauldron, Mrs Weasley shouting at their backs the entire time. He had squashed himself into one of the vehicles with Harry, Hermione, Ron and, to the red-head's disgust, other-Percy.

"Mate, my mom is _mental_ , I swear." Ron had shaken his head despondently.

They had reached King's Cross with time to spare and they had crossed the barrier between platform nine and ten. Man, that had been an experience worthy of being remembered. He couldn't wait to tell Annabeth that wizards had to run straight at a brick wall to get to the Express for Hogwarts. He knew his cousin had been kind of disappointed by his carefree attitude when faced with the prospect of smashing against a wall: Percy thought he had been hoping he would be at least a bit scared. His cousin could be a little sadist when he wanted to.

It happened just as he turned his back on the window, ready to get back to the rest of his group. The train gave a lurch, almost knocking him off his feet. It rolled forward a few more metres before shuddering to a stop.

Percy squashed his cheek against the window. Through the fog and his own breath against the pane, he clearly saw two tall figures getting onboard.

He frowned. He didn't think this was a normal occurrence.

The lights winked out, plunging the train into darkness. Alarmed shrieks echoed throughout the corridor; doors were slammed open and then closed again. A few students peeked out of their compartments, obviously confused.

Something was moving at the other end of the hallway. Percy squinted, his eyes still not used to the all compassing darkness. Whatever that thing was, it was tall, taller than a human, and cloaked in black.

The students lingering in the corridor scurried back inside, but Percy didn't follow them. He took a step forward, curious despite himself.

 _Faithless child._

He whirled around, sure he had heard a mellifluous voice whispering in his ear. It had sounded like –

 _You have no trust in the Gods. They don't make heroes like they used to in the old days._

Echidna. The mother of monsters. She couldn't be there, could she? Zeus wouldn't send her after him again, not after he had retrieved his master bolt.

The thing in the shadows walked closer. No, not walked, he realized with a pang. It glided, its feet never touching the floor.

Percy's breath came out in puffs, coalescing in the suddenly freezing air. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His ADHD awoke his senses and his fight or flight instincts took over. He was suddenly aware of everything going on around him – the shuffle of feet against the wood floor, the scared whimpers of children, the rattling breath of the creature. He could now see it as well as if someone had shined a light on it.

The thing drifted into a shaft of moonlight, its head cocked to one side as if it couldn't understand what it was seeing. If it _could_ see. Percy's eyes fell on its hands. They looked rotten – bones covered only by decayed skin. He decided he liked skeletons better when there was nothing else of the human body left.

One of the hands rose slowly and a waft of Smelly Gabe's disgusting scent hit his nose. He brought an hand to his mouth, gagging.

His vision swam. When he reopened his eyes, he was in the field outside the border of Camp Half-Blood. The pine born from Thalia Daughter of Zeus' sacrifice swayed in the strong wind, casting long shadows across his face. The rain fell with unforgiving strength. Grover was laying at his feet and the roar of the Minotaur echoed in his ears.

"Percy!"

The beast's hand was around his mom's neck, but this time she didn't disappear in a shower of gold. Her neck broke with a sharp crack and she fell limply on the rain battered grass.

He thought he might've screamed, but he wasn't sure. He rushed forward, but the ground under his feet melted into the reinforced glass of the St Louis' Arch and he teeter on the edge of the smoking crater.

"It's time to die, hero." Echidna simpered. "Do you think your father will save you again? Do you think he _cares_?"

Blind rage took over Percy, leaving no other emotion in its wake. _Heroes_ didn't need to be saved.

His hand flew to his pocket and the train reformed around him.

The cloaked being had flown back and seemed hesitant to come closer again. Its hand was burned, as if it had immersed it in boiling water. Percy looked down: even though the rest of him was shaking like crazy, his hands were steady and firm around Riptide. The celestial bronze sword was glowing even brighter than usual in the darkness, pulsating with power. He aimed it straight at the creature.

It backed up slowly, its eyes – or whatever it used to look at things – fixed on Riptide. The creature disappeared back into the shadows from where it had come, the lights flickering back to life as it left. Percy stayed where he was. He wasn't sure his legs would support him and he didn't want to engage that thing in a fight without knowing what it was, not unless someone was in danger. He wasn't _stupid_.

The door of the Hogwarts Express creaked open and a moment later they were moving again, albeit by fits and starts.

Percy's shoulders slumped and Riptide fell to his side. His senses were still in overdrive, but he felt drained of all energies. He wasn't even at Hogwarts yet and he had already been attacked by a...whatever in Tartarus that thing was. Had his scent attracted it there or was he being paranoid? Either way, it was certainly shaping up to be an interesting school year, to say the least. A nazi terrorist wanted to kill his cousin and monsters swarmed the train to school. His mom was going to have a basket of kittens.

Pale faces peered out into the corridor and scared whisperings filled the silence.

Percy recapped Riptide, realizing he was still standing in the middle of the hallway in full sight of everyone who cared to look. He wasn't sure how the Mist affected wizards or even if it worked at all on them and he wasn't keen on finding out like that. The sword shrank into a pen.

Students tiptoed out of their compartments and he mingled with the crowd as if he had always been there. He didn't wish to be singled out on his first day at a new school.

"– heard about Potter?"

The mention of his cousin's name caught his attention. He followed the sound of the loud, sneering voice and found a head of platinum blonde hair. Its owner was halfway into a compartment, talking to the occupants.

"Longbottom said he fainted!"

Roaring laughter followed his statement. An uncomfortable weight settled into Percy's stomach. He took a step in Blondie's direction – because he could recognize an asshole when he saw one – but he changed his mind at the last moment. Checking on Harry was more important.

He hurried back to his compartment. He met a number of students along the way. They all looked quite scared and some of them were crying.

In his carriage he found Ginny, huddled up in a ball in the corner. Ron was holding a hand on hers and the other on Harry's shoulder. His cousin looked pale and shaken. Sweat clung to his forehead and he had a whole block of chocolate in his hands. Hermione was sitting in front of him, her hair in disarray – more than usual – and a pissed off Crookshanks in her arms.

"Harry." He called. His cousin looked up, his eyes unfocused. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I – I don't know." Harry began. "That thing, that dementor came in and..." his voice died.

Hermione glanced at him worriedly. "Harry had a...fit."

"Wasn't a fit." Mumbled Harry, munching on a piece of chocolate.

"Merlin's pants, that thing was horrible." Ron said with a shudder. "I felt like I'd never be happy again."

That about summed it up. He wondered if they had had visions too or if it had happened only to him. Harry certainly looked as if he had seen the army of the dead. And not only him.

He studied Ginny. He hadn't talked much with the younger girl the evening before and he didn't want to meddle, but he needed to know if someone else had been affected the same way as him. "Did you have a fit too, Ginny?"

The girl winced. Ok, maybe he should've been a bit more...tactful.

Ron's lips turned down. "She'll feel better as soon as we are at Hogwarts."

That was incredibly uninformative.

"Where were you?" Harry asked, his voice a bit stronger.

Percy sat down near him. "Bathroom." It wasn't a lie; just not the whole truth. "One of those creatures was out there too. You said it was a dementor," he turned to Hermione, knowing she was the one with all the information, "aren't those the guards of the wizarding prison?"

A different voice answered. "The guards of Azkaban, yes."

A man had appeared on the threshold. Percy recognized him as the professor who had been sleeping in their compartment. He thought his name was Lupin. Ha had forgotten all about him in the commotion.

He sat down in front of Ginny, moving his patched up cloak to the side. "You should eat that chocolate, Harry. You'll feel better." His cousin looked down at his hands, as if surprised to find the food still there. "The dementors were checking the carriages for Sirius Black. I honestly don't know why they were allowed on board with you kids still here, though." His eyes moved on Percy. "You are a friend of Harry, I take it?"

"His cousin." Percy answered. So the dementors had been looking for Sirius Black and not for him. He didn't know if that was a good or bad news. "My name's Percy Jackson."

Lupin's face showed his surprise. "I didn't know he had another cousin." He murmured under his breath.

Percy frowned. _'Another'_? Did that mean he knew about Harry's mortal family? He was aware his cousin was famous, but he didn't think the identity of his relatives was public knowledge.

"Why did they think Black would be here?" Hermione bit her lip. "That doesn't make sense. He would've to be stupid to hide in the Hogwarts Express."

"Stupid or crazy." Pointed out Lupin. "I'm pretty sure he is at least one of those things. But I agree with you: he wouldn't risk trapping himself this way. Not before..." his gaze flew to Harry and he didn't finish.

"Not before he could be sure to kill me." Harry grumbled. He smirked at Lupin's befuddled expression. "Yeah, I know he wants to kill me. I'm not scared."

"You shouldn't underestimate him, Harry." Lupin cautioned. "Though I believe you'll be safe inside the walls of Hogwarts."

Percy hated to ruin the optimistic atmosphere, but he had to ask. "Black managed to escape from a prison protected by dementors. What's keeping him out of Hogwarts?"

Hermione gave a shocked gasp. "Percy! You'll scare him like that!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not two, Hermione."

"And he isn't wrong." Ron pointed out. "Black wouldn't be the first dangerous thing to get into Hogwarts."

Lupin smiled. "I know it may seem strange, but I assure you every precaution has been taken. The wards around Hogwarts have been reinforced and the dementors will patrol the borders of the school."

Harry grimaced. "Those things will be at Hogwarts?"

"Not inside the wards." Lupin corrected. "Dumbledore won't allow them into the grounds."

"But why? Aren't they here to protect us?"

Percy snorted. "You have seen the effect they have on people. Who would want them near kids?"

Certainly not him. He agreed with Dumbledore on this.

"Percy is right." said Lupin. "Dementors can drive fully grown wizards crazy. There is no saying what they'd do to children."

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Just as Harry swallowed the last piece of chocolate, the train slowed down.

Lupin raised his eyes from the dusty book he had opened a few minutes before, a soft smile brightening his tired face. "We're here."

Percy looked out. They were passing through a small, quaint village. Lights shined out of the few houses and people crowded the diminutive square in front of what looked like a pub. Beyond the station, Percy saw a forest. Its majestic and probably ancient trees cast long shadows over the village. He remembered Harry mentioning a forbidden forest bordering the school and he could only guess he was looking at it right now. Peeking out from behind the dense trees, he glimpsed high turrets and bright lights cutting the darkness of the night.

Percy took a deep breath, worried despite himself of what awaited him.

They were at Hogwarts.

/

/

 **Next chapter** : Percy gets sorted! (If the author doesn't change his house once again.)


	7. Chapter 7

I did it!

I know this chapter is terribly late, but I've been really busy with college and work and I haven't had as much time to write as before. Not to mention I'm kind of a perfectionist and I like to check everything multiple times (despite this I still made a mistake in the last chapter. I wrote 'a basic lack of survival instincts' instead of 'a lack of basic survival instincts'. Oops.)

I'll update as often as possible, but I won't keep a schedule from now on. I work better without a deadline hanging over my head anyway.

I want to **thank everyone one who liked or reviewed this story**. You guys make my days. I also want to thank Kiskaduna who added this story to her community.

As you probably suspect, Percy gets sorted in this chapter. If you want to know the reasoning behind my choice, you can find it at the end of the chapter.

On to other news, this weekend I'll be at one of the biggest Comics convention in the world, **Lucca Comics and Games**. Do I have Italian readers? Will you guys be there?

And now, enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think if you have the time!

 **Chapter 7 – In which an Hat sings and Hades' realm rears its ugly head**

Whatever could be said about wizards and their eccentricity, they sure knew how to build schools.

The castle of Hogwarts stood on a sloping hill, protected by snow-capped mountains on three sides and by a large lake on the last one. It was encircled by extensive grounds and by the forest he had seen from the train. Warm lights shined out of hundreds of windows and high turrets hid the starry sky from sight. Three towers, taller than the rest, glowed bright against the darkness of the night.

It couldn't compare to the majesty of Olympus, with its white-columned palaces and gilded porticos illuminated by a thousand fires in the clouds above Manhattan, but it was still breathtaking in its own, medieval way. Annabeth would've killed to be there.

"You're gaping, mate," Ron snickered, "Close your mouth."

Percy snapped his mouth shut, glaring at him.

"Don't listen to him, Percy," Hermione piped up, "We all felt like that the first time. Well, not _only_ the first time."

Percy followed her line of sight to Harry, who was staring at Hogwarts as if it were the entrance to the Isles of the Blest and eternal peace awaited him on the other side. He had never seen someone looking so happy to go back to school. Granted, he had attended schools for juvenile delinquents most of his life so maybe that had something to do with it.

"Come on, the carriages are this way."

Hermione led them down a narrow path edged by tall, thick trees. Their finger-like branches tickled the skin of his neck.

He stumbled on a root. "Carriages?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, stirred from his contemplation of Hogwarts now that the castle was out of sight. "You didn't think we'd get there by foot, did you?"

That was, in fact, exactly what he had been thinking. Though, now that he thought about it, it was fairly obvious there would be a better mode of reaching Hogwarts than by foot: it was all the way over a hill and through a passage in the forest, which was an hazard for his coordination and also kind of spooky, to be honest. Harry had said it was forbidden – the Forbidden Forest, he had called it, which made him wonder exactly what kind of horrors it hid in its depths. It reminded Percy a bit of the woods at Camp, stocked with monsters and other dangers for those Demigods brave – or foolish – enough to fight them.

The carriages were waiting in line just behind a bend in the road; a few of them had already disappeared beyond the darkness of the forest.

Percy squinted. He caught sight of dark, horse-like shapes leading the vehicles away at a fast pace.

He held Harry back by the sleeve of his robes, letting Ron and Hermione pass them by. The girl gave them a curious glance, but she didn't stop to question him. She was probably worried he wasn't taking all the new things around him as well as he should. She was almost right.

"Is everything okay?"

Percy met Harry's concerned eyes. He was once again struck by their vivid green colour, so different from his own. "Yeah. Just...what pulls the carriages?"

Harry stared, perplexed. "Nothing. They move by magic." He studied him keenly. "Are you _sure_ you are feeling well?"

"Of course," Percy lied, because, damn it, had it been a trick of the light or was he seeing things? That couldn't be a good sign. "I was just curious."

Harry didn't look convinced, but Ron's voice reclaimed their attention before he could say anything. "Hoy! This one is empty! Move it, will you?"

Percy followed his cousin, ignoring Hermione scolding Ron for his rudeness, his gaze intent on the could-be-hallucinations attached to the carriage. They didn't disappear as he got closer, but instead became more visible. Long, thin legs formed from the shadows; elongated snouts and bony bodies took shape under his startled eyes.

He stopped a few feet from the carriage. The creatures did look like horses in a way: fleshless, reptilian horses. Every bone was visible through their sleek black coat, giving them the unsettling appearance of walking skeletons. Their eyes were misty white, sunken deeply into their dragonish heads. What had looked to him like bulky protuberances from afar turned out to be wings, leathery like those of a bat and twitching restlessly against their ribs.

One of them twisted around and Percy swallowed audibly. Despite its pupil-less eyes, it was staring straight at him. He had thought they were blind.

 _Young Lord._

Percy leaped back, colliding with an older student walking by. The other boy steadied him with an hand on his elbow before continuing on his way, but Percy was too concentrated on the winged horses to thank him. "What?"

"Percy?" Harry stuck his head out of the carriage's window. "Are you coming?"

He swallowed audibly. "I – yes, sure."

He kept the horses in his line of sight as he moved closer. He didn't want to give Harry and his friends reasons to doubt his mental stability, but those creatures freaked the hell out of him. He wasn't going to turn his back on them.

A foreign feeling of amusement briefly touched his mind. _Come visit us, Little Lord._

A violent shiver ran down his spine and his whole body shook, a feeling comparable to being hit by one of Zeus' bolts. The mental voice had come from the creatures: he could hear their words and even feel their emotions. That settled it – someway, somehow, those animals were one of his father's creations.

He hopped into the carriage, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. Harry and Hermione didn't look convinced; Ron didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. _What are you?_ , he pushed the thought the horses' way.

 _Come visit us,_ they repeated, _You'll know where to find us._

The vehicle pulled away and Percy felt the horses' minds retreat from his. Despite this, he spent good part of the journey with his head halfway out of the window, prodding at their consciousness. The animals kept up their pace, stubbornly ignoring his pitiful attempts at re-establishing a contact.

He gave up only when the glint of moonlight on water caught his wayward attention.

They were galloping along the western shore of the lake. He didn't need to touch it to know it was a body of fresh water, but it was still part of his father's realm and that was good enough.

The repetitive, sloshing sound of the water lulled him. He felt his lids getting heavier and he had to force himself to stay awake. It wasn't easy, not after a sleepless night. The vibrancy of the lives thriving beneath the waves assaulted his senses like bright lights in an otherwise dark night, distracting him from the rest of the world. Hundreds of creatures, small and big, hid in the black depths of the lake: their existence was a perpetual buzzing at the back of his mind.

After a while he became aware of the numerous boats silently traversing the loch, their path illuminated only by the fires of old-fashioned lanterns swaying in the breeze. Black-cloaked children sat in each of them.

"It's the first years," said an unfamiliar voice.

Percy swirled around and found himself face to face with a plump blond-haired boy he had never seen before. The stranger smiled tentatively, his lips parting around slightly crooked front teeth.

"It's a tradition here at Hogwarts," he went on, "New students always arrive by boat. We'll leave the same way at the end of our seventh year."

Percy's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. "Er, thanks. I didn't know that. You are...?"

The other boy blushed and mumbled something Percy didn't catch.

"He's Neville," Harry answered for him. "He's in our year and a Gryffindor like us. Neville, this is Percy Jackson, my –"

"Cousin, right?" Neville interrupted. His face went from red to puce in the next second and he looked alarmed. "You said on the train...and I thought since I had never seen him before...and he isn't wearing house colours..." he stammered hastily.

Harry smiled gently. "Breath, Neville. Yeah, he's my cousin."

"Nice to meet you, man," Percy said. A feeling of protection for the painfully shy boy surged through him. How had he missed his presence in the carriage? Not only was it rude, but it was also stupidly dangerous. Chiron would have him washing dishes with lava for a week if he found out. He always lectured him on minding his surroundings – 'lest you get bitten by another poisonous scorpion', he would say.

Neville's blue eyes fell on his outstretched hand and he grabbed it hesitatingly. "N-nice to me you too."

The carriage stumbled to a stop. Hermione pulled the door open and they filed out. The horses had halted in front of huge oak doors, which opened into a vast entrance hall and a wide marble staircase.

 _Until we meet again, Little Lord._

He threw the skeletal horses one last speculative glance before following the boisterous crowd up the stairs and into the hall. Purple fires burned vivaciously in brass braziers on either side of the doors, heating up the otherwise cold stone room.

"That's the Great Hall." Harry pointed at the double doors on the right of the hall. Percy glimpsed four long tables and colourful banners as they walked forward, half pushed by the students behind them. "It's where we eat and hold special events, like the sorting."

"The sorting?" Percy asked, trying to see more of the Great Hall over the heads of his fellow students. "You mean the House thing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. " 'House thing'? Honestly!"

Harry snickered under his breath. "Yeah, the 'House thing'," he frowned. "What about you? Dumbledore told me you weren't going to be sorted with the firsties. Did he say anything to you?"

Percy felt a pang of discomfort in his chest. He shrugged. "Maybe I should just come with you and wait."

"McGonagall should be around here somewhere." Ron, the tallest of them, strained his neck to look over the crowd. "We can ask –"

"Potter! Hey, Potter!" a drawling voice cut into their conversation.

Percy heard Harry curse softly as he turned around to stare at the newcomer. It was a boy their age wearing a silver and green tie. He had elbowed his way past a bunch of students and was now blocking their passage to the Great Hall, sneering maliciously. Percy hadn't seen his pale and pointy face before, but he recognized the platinum blond hair, slicked back with what had to be a ton of gel, at once. He was the one who had been mocking Harry on the train.

He felt his hackles rise.

The blond was flanked by two burly boys whose mean scowls could've rivalled Clarisse's. Percy thought they looked like particularly dumb bodyguards.

"Malfoy." Harry's voice was pained, as if he couldn't stand to be in the other boy's presence for more than a few seconds. "What do you want?"

The newly dubbed Malfoy smirked. "I heard you fainted, Potter. Is that true? Did you really faint?" he taunted loudly, making sure everyone in their proximity heard him.

Harry's cheeks coloured lightly.

"Get lost, Malfoy!" Ron spat out. "No one wants to hear what you have to say!"

The blond sneered. "I see the Weasel and the Mudblood are here too."

Hermione tensed at his side and gasps echoed across the crowd. Whatever Malfoy had called her, it wasn't complementary.

The boy's gaze almost passed over him in disregard, but then he did a double take. "Well, well." He simpered. "What do we have here? Have you found another trusty side-kick, Potty?"

Percy retorted before Harry could, having had enough of Gel-boy's attitude. "What dye do you use? Because it looks fake as hell. You should invest in a better hairstylist."

A startled hush fell over the closest students. Harry and Ron smothered a laugh, while Hermione grabbed his elbow, hissing his name in warning. Percy ignored her: he had dealt with worse bullies than this gelled upstart.

Malfoy sneered contemptuously. "You need to teach your lapdogs some manners, Scarhead. This," he spat out, turning his icy eyes on Percy, "is my natural hair colour. It's something we Malfoys have in common. Not that I would expect a commoner like you to know."

Percy snorted, not at all put out by Malfoy's would be subtle insults. "Even an idiot would see that colour is an unnatural abomination. Which, by the way, includes your bodyguards. You're not fooling anyone." Ugly red blotches spread over Malfoy's cheeks and neck and Percy almost gave into the temptation to smile. "Or perhaps you fell into a barrel of bleach as a child. Is that what happened?"

The curious students that had stopped to watch the unfolding drama laughed uproariously.

Stupid Bodyguard One and Stupid Bodyguard Two took a threatening step forward, pounding a fist against open palms like every good villain in a cliché movie. Percy wondered if they had even realized he had offended them or if they were just reacting to their boss' facial expressions.

Malfoy stared at him in disgust. "You little –"

"What's going on here?" a stern voice interrupted whatever Malfoy had been about to say.

Professor McGonagall appeared as if out of thin air behind the few students still lingering. They parted like the Red Sea to let her through, which she did with regal poise. Scarier and scarier, Percy thought.

Her eyes narrowed on Malfoy, her nostrils quivering as if she could smell trouble. "You are blocking the traffic, Mr Malfoy. Move along, all of you!" she barked. "The welcoming feast is about to begin."

They scampered, Malfoy muttering darkly under his breath. Percy and the rest of his group made to follow, but McGonagall held them back.

"Potter, Granger and Jackson. Come with me."

Percy threw Harry a questioning glance; his cousin shrugged and joined McGonagall by the staircase.

"Not you Weasley."

Ron, who had been trailing after Hermione, ground to a halt at the professor's command, his eyes a bit wide. "But –"

"No 'buts', Weasley. Wait for your friends in the Great Hall with the rest of the students. They'll join you soon enough."

McGonagall led them up the stairs and to a spacious office a few corridors from the Hall. During the journey, Percy had to be pulled along multiple times as he was often distracted by the moving – moving! – paintings that hung on the walls. He had never seen something like that. He wondered if they were alive, somehow, or just a really believable imitation of life.

Either way, they were awesome, but they did terrible thing to his already unreliable attention span.

Waiting for them in what Percy guessed was McGonagall's office was a grey-haired witch dressed in flowing burgundy robes. She fell on Harry like a vulture on a mouse, fussing over him and scolding him for getting in trouble at the same time, which Percy found hilarious. Judging by Harry's disgruntled expression, he didn't agree one bit.

Hermione explained to him in a fast whisper that the woman was Madam Pomfrey, the school's mediwitch. "That's like a doctor or a nurse."

"While we wait for Mr Potter to be checked for injuries," began Professor McGonagall, breezily ignoring Harry's 'I _don't need_ to be checked!', "we can take care of the matter of your sorting, Mr Jackson."

Percy startled. "Oh, like, right now?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look over the rim of her glasses. It made him feel singularly stupid. "Yes, Mr Jackson, now."

She lifted an old, patched-up witch hat from her desk and offered it to him. Percy stared at it in befuddlement. There was absolutely nothing special about the hat. If anything, it looked one strong breath away from blowing to dust and he was sure he had seen at least one spider scuttle across its wide rim. He didn't want that thing anywhere near his head.

"Er, okay. Am I supposed to pull a rabbit out of it or...?"

Hermione _tutted_ disapprovingly and Harry tried to disguise a laugh by coughing loudly. Percy guessed that was payback for his earlier amusement at his cousin's predicament.

The professor's lips pressed into a thin line. "Mr Jackson," she pronounced slowly, as if speaking to a mentally challenged child, "the first years are waiting for the Hat. Would you prefer to be sorted with them perhaps?"

Percy swallowed. Damn, she could be scary. She was like an older, sterner and magical version of Annabeth. Not that Annabeth wasn't magical in her own way. _Focus, Percy._ "Nope, here works just as well." He took the hat from her hands. "So..."

"Wear it." McGonagall waved impatiently. "And you should probably sit down. The Hat can be kind of...unexpected."

Percy did as he was told with a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry bite his lip in a worried manner while trying to push Madam Pomfrey's hands away from his face. Then he let the hat fall on his head – _Please, tell me that spider was an hallucination_ – and his world plunged into darkness.

 _'_ _I assure you, Mr Jackson, there are no spiders on me. I care about my hygiene.'_

Percy almost catapulted himself out of his seat. What the fuck?!

 _'_ _Language, Mr Jackson. No need to be crass.'_

 _No need to be_ – had he just been scolded by a hat? What had his life turned into? First the horses from Hades and now a piece of clothing. _If_ it had been the hat talking and not...something else.

 _'_ _And what else? Don't be silly, my boy. Of course it's me. I'm the Sorting Hat. Usually you'd be treated to one of my inspired vocal performances, but these are hardly usual circumstances.'_

That explained so much. Harry had refused to tell him how students were sorted, saying that it would be funnier if he found out on the spot (funnier for him, Percy supposed), but he had admitted that there was a magical device involved.

 _'_ _Aye, sorting students has been my job for almost a millennia, Mr Jackson.'_ The Hat confirmed. _'Talking about which, we should really get started. I do hate to make children wait.'_

Percy wondered how exactly it worked. Was it – he? – going to quiz him? Because he hated surprise quizzes with a passion. Or could he just choose the House he liked best? Not that he knew any of them beside Harry's House, Gryffindor, and even that just by name. His mom had brought him a book on Hogwarts, but he had chucked it at the bottom of his trunk and promptly forgotten about it.

 _'_ _I'm not going to quiz you, Mr Jackson,'_ the Hat said to his unending relief, _'and while I'll keep your personal opinions in mind, I won't allow you to choose your own House either. What I'll do is read inside of you – your memories and your aspirations – and place you where you are most likely to achieve your full potential and find companionship.'_

Percy froze. If the Hat could see his memories then he would find out about –

He aborted the thought before it could take shape.

 _'_ _What a pity.'_ The Hat sounded disappointed – if it was even possible for an accessory to feel disappointment. _'I've sorted an handful of students like you – whatever you are – over the centuries, but they were all rather apt at hiding the truth from my mind.'_

He frowned. When he had contacted – his mind skirted around the name of his mentor – he had said there were no other children like him at Hogwarts that he knew of. Of course, he could be wrong: no matter how omniscient (nice Annabeth-worthy vocabulary, Jackson!) he could seem, he didn't really know _everything._ He hadn't known about him until a few months ago. Or maybe they were all past students. It seemed to him that the Hat had been 'alive' for almost as long as Hogwarts after all.

 _'_ _Well, we've wasted enough time! So, my boy. As you probably_ don't _know, Hogwarts was founded a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of their time: Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin,'_

Oh Gods, not an history lesson.

 _'_ _Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor. Pay attention, Mr Jackson. A bit of historical knowledge is not going to kill you.'_ The Hat scolded. _'The four houses are named after them. Hufflepuff is for the loyal and hardworking, Gryffindor for the brave and chivalrous, Slytherin for the cunning and ambitious and Ravenclaw for the wise and studious.'_ He lectured.

Well, at least he already knew which house he would _not_ end up in.

 _'_ _I see we agree. Yes, while you certainly possess a healthy dose of ingenuity and more wit than advisable, I do not believe Ravenclaw would suit you. Your unwillingness to read the book your mother got you is proof enough that you don't love knowledge for knowledge's sake, which is perhaps a Ravenclaw's greatest asset._

 _'_ _You are loyal. Oh, you are very loyal. To the point of self-sacrifice, I dare say. Helga would've appreciated such steadfastness, but so would've Godric.'_

The Hat made it sound as if he had met them in person.

 _'_ _I did. I'm one of Godric's creations. But back to you, Mr Jackson. You are hardworking when it comes to things you care about, but lazy when it's something you don't consider important. You are prone to bursts of anger and impulsiveness – both traits I usually associate with Gryffindor.'_

The Hat wasn't the first one to remark upon his rashness. Both his mom and Annabeth had warned him that it was bound to get him in more trouble than he could get out of one day and even his father, who wasn't known for his prudence, had offered a word of caution.

 _'_ _It doesn't have to be a bad thing, Mr Jackson. In fact, I do believe that your devotion to your friends balances it out somewhat.'_ The Hat reassured him. _'As you have probably realized, all of this makes Hufflepuff a good fit for you, but then again, the same can be said about Gryffindor and Slytherin. You are cunning, you know how to exploit a weakness to your advantage and you certainly can think on your feet, but I fear you are not ambitious enough for Salazar's house. Which leaves us with two choices, Mr Jackson: bravery or loyalty. Which one defines you more?'_

Percy's breath caught. He had a feeling that question was more decisive than it should be and he had no idea what to say. Or maybe he did: loyalty he had in spades, bravery on the other hand...no matter how hard he tried, he often felt anything but courageous.

 _'_ _Mh, interesting.'_

Percy looked up at the large brim of the Hat obscuring his face as if he could see its – _his_ expression. What was interesting?

The Hat ignored his thought. _'Whatever the answer to that question may be, Mr Jackson, bear in mind that sometimes loyalty to your friends will pull you through, while other times you must have the courage to put that same loyalty aside and do what's necessary. Will you be able to do it, I wonder?'_

He didn't even know what the dusty thing was talking about. What kind of choice could be more important than his own friends and family?

 _'_ _I take offence to that. I didn't say more important; I said_ necessary. _You'll see, give it time.'_ He sighed, surprising Percy once again with just how human he sounded. _'You are a difficult one, my boy, truly difficult. I think that your loyalty to those you love comes above everything else and that there is no stronger wish in you than that to protect them from harm._ But... _I also believe that sometimes those traits we look up to and try with all our strength to make ours are more defining and crucial than those we are born with. All your life you have been brave, even when all you wanted to do was run away and hide,'_ Percy held his breath, _'and so I say you should go to_ GRYFFINDOR! _'_

Percy heard the Hat shout the last word to the room. He took it off of his head from its pointy end, squinting against the sudden light that assaulted his eyes after long minutes of almost complete darkness.

Harry and Hermione were clapping. There was a wild grin on his cousin's face and some of the tension oppressing Percy's chest lifted. He could breath easily again.

He wasn't going to deny it: being put in the same House as Harry was a relief. He had been worried about being completely alone in a new environment.

"Well done, Mr Jackson."

The silent Hat was taken from his limp hands by a smiling Professor McGonagall. It was probably the second smile he had ever seen on her face and it gave him a warm feeling in his chest. McGonagall was the kind of woman who made you wish for her approval.

"From this day until your graduation from Hogwarts, you will be part of Gryffindor House. As the Head of House, I hope you'll make us proud."

She waved her wand and colours appeared on his previously grey tie. The Gryffindor crest, a roaring lion, swirled into existence on his robes, right over his heart, seemingly sewing itself on the fabric.

Percy fingered the gold and red tie, a grin on his face.

"Now that that's settled," McGonagall went on, "I'd like to speak with Miss Granger alone for a minute. You can wait for her outside."

Harry glanced questioningly at his friend, but she waved them on. With a shrug and one last look at the Hat, Percy opened the door and they stepped outside. Only then did he realize that Madam Pomfrey must've left the office as he was being sorted.

"Do you know why she wanted to talk to Hermione?" he asked once the girl had shut the door behind them.

Harry raised his shoulders. "She said something about her schedule on the train. That's probably it." Then he added, still smiling, "I'm glad you are in Gryffindor."

Percy grinned back. "Me too, man. But I wouldn't have minded Hufflepuff either, or Slytherin." He slid with his back against the wall until he was sitting on the cold stone floor.

Harry grimaced. "But then you'd have had to share a dorm with Malfoy."

Percy faked a shudder. "Right. I can't imagine that would've been a pleasant experience."

"Not after what you told him. He's probably meditating revenge right now." He cocked his head to the side, ignoring Percy's unimpressed snort. "Not Ravenclaw?" at his curious look, he elaborated, "You said you wouldn't have minded Hufflepuff or Slytherin, but not Ravenclaw."

"Wisdom is not exactly my most defining characteristic," he admitted. "The Hat seemed to think so too."

"Well, the Hat usually knows best, even when it doesn't seem so."

"Yeah," Percy mumbled distractedly. With all this talk of Houses, his mind had flown back to the Hat's puzzling advice, if it could be called as such.

Percy wasn't sure what he had meant, but it had sounded rather ominous. What kind of choice would require him to leave behind his friends and why would he ever do that? Of course, with a prophecy hanging over his head, even if he didn't have the faintest what it said, everything was possible.

Harry made a strange sound in the back of his throat. "Dementors," he said, staring out of the tall window on the other side of the corridor.

Black, fluttering shapes moved in and out of sight, obscuring the stars. Percy recognized them at once.

"Lupin _did_ say they would be patrolling the grounds," he pointed out.

Harry grimaced. Percy couldn't blame him: he wasn't happy to be sharing a school – or, you know, a _planet_ – with those things either and _he,_ at least, hadn't fainted.

"How come they guard the prison?" he wondered.

Harry didn't answer for a long moment, probably taken aback by his question. It was a bit out of the blue, but it was something that had been on his mind since their conversation on the train and now seemed a good moment to ask. There was no one to overhear them.

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. He glanced outside again, a calculating look on his face. "I never thought to ask."

"It's just..." he hesitated, not wishing to offend his cousin, "it seems kind of cruel, to subject people to them, even if they're criminal."

Harry inspired deeply. "Yeah. A bit."

They lapsed into silence after that, both of them absorbed by their thoughts. Percy recalled what his father had told him about wizards, that at the end of the day they were no different from non-magical mortals, though some of them considered themselves better. Dementors seemed nothing less than the magical answer to torture as far as he was concerned.

When Hermione and McGonagall rejoined them a few minutes later, the girl looking extremely satisfied, he was still sitting on the floor, contemplating what an inhumane punishment awaited those who committed crimes in wizarding society.

He hung at the back of the group as they retraced their steps to the Entrance Hall. If his cousin noticed his suddenly antisocial behaviour he didn't say anything, but then again, he was a bit busy trying to interrogate Hermione on her private conversation with the professor.

The woman disappeared into a smaller side room with the Hat as soon as they reached the front doors, but Percy barely paid her any mind, too taken by his first proper look of the Great Hall.

The floating candles were what first caught his attention. There were thousands of them, suspended in mid-air above four long tables, each of them crowded by students. Sparkling golden plates and goblets laid on the tablecloths. They came in different colours: green and silver on the table to the far right, bronze and blue and black and yellow on the middle tables and red and gold on the one to the far left. Percy guessed those were the Houses colours.

At the end of the Hall stood another table, this one occupied by adults. Albus Dumbledore sat among them, on a throne like chair at the centre of the table. He was staring at the ceiling, seemingly humming to himself as he waited for the Feast to begin.

Percy raised his gaze too. "Oh, wow..." he stumbled to a stop, his eyes so wide he was sure they were going to pop out of their sockets. He had thought that Dumbledore was staring at the ceiling, but that wasn't exactly right because there was _no ceiling to stare at._ The stars winked at him from the velvety blackness of the night sky where stone was supposed to be.

How did they keep the elements out? He guessed they used magic not dissimilar from the one that protected Camp Half-Blood (at least on the days Zeus wasn't pissed off at them).

"It's enchanted to look like that." Hermione whispered. "It's not really the night sky."

Well, that was disappointing. Still kinda cool, though.

"Guys," Harry interrupted them, "people are staring. Let's go."

He was right. The students closer to the double doors were craning their necks to get a better look at them and some had even gotten up from their seats. Percy wondered if it was because he was new.

Luckily, Ron had saved them seats so they didn't have to stand around like idiots looking for free ones. He grinned when he saw Percy's red and gold tie.

"I knew you'd make it, mate!" he thumped him on the back as Percy sat down. "What did McGonagall want?"

Harry shrugged. "She wanted to make sure I was okay after what happened with the Dementor. And she needed to talk with Hermione, but she won't tell me what about."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his catty tone. "I _told_ you. She just wanted to talk about my schedule."

Percy, who had gone back to gaping at the enchanted ceiling, turned to look at her. "Because of all those electives you are taking?"

Maybe it had been a trick of his mind, but he was sure he saw Hermione's hand tremble slightly around the long stem of her empty glass. "Yeah," she answered shortly.

The doors opening brought their conversation to a halt.

About forty children were ushered inside by McGonagall. The woman herself walked to the front of the line, emanating the usual aura of authority and command, the sorting Hat in hand. She marched up the dais to the teachers' table and set the Hat down on a three legged stool that Percy was sure hadn't been there before.

Hermione leaned over the table, motioning him to do the same. "It's the sorting," she explained in a whisper, "we probably would've missed it if you hadn't needed to use the Hat."

Percy felt suddenly quite thankful he didn't have to stand in line with those kids, waiting for his turn to be sorted under the watchful eyes of hundreds of teenagers.

The clatter in the Hall died down abruptly as a rip near the brim of the Hat opened wide. Notes tumbled out, filling the silence, and Percy's eyes widened.

It was _singing._

From the completely unsurprised faces around him, Percy guessed that was a fairly normal occurrence. In fact, hadn't the Hat said something about his 'outstanding vocal performances' or something like that?

Still, a _talking_ Hat was one thing; a _singing_ Hat was a whole new level of weirdness. He had apparently fallen into the rabbit's hole and ended up in a musical.

The students burst into applause as the song came to a close. Percy saw the twins whistling loudly a few seats down from them. Professor McGonagall produced a scroll of parchment from her robes and began reading names from it. By the time the third red-cheeked child had been sorted, Percy had already lost interest in the whole affair.

He concentrated on his fellow students instead, clapping to welcome new members when the rest of Gryffindor did.

His eyes singled out the Weasley siblings almost unconsciously, their peculiar hair colour giving them away at once. Other-Percy sat straight backed at the end of the table closest to the teachers, his attention never derailing from the sorting. He was always the first one to welcome new Gryffindors. The Twins were holding what appeared to be an animated debate smack-dab in the middle of the table. The only one keeping to herself seemed to be Ginny. While surrounded by a number of girls, she wasn't talking to anybody and her eyes never raised from her plate the whole time Percy looked at her. Strange – she hadn't come off as shy to him.

Sitting to Ron's left were two boys probably their age chatting in low tones; right next to them was Neville, the boy from the carriage, who smiled at him shyly.

At the table at the other hand of the Hall, Malfoy was entertaining a crowd of kids in green and silver with what appeared to be the extremely exaggerated rendition of someone fainting. Percy narrowed his eyes: there was no mistaking what the blond was doing. He was just glad Harry hadn't noticed it, too taken by the sorting to worry about the platinum menace.

He raised his eyes back on the enchanted ceiling. The stars were definitely more worthy of attention than Malfoy could ever hope to be. His mind instinctively sought out the constellations Annabeth had taught him about. While many had slipped from his memory, he could still recognize a few: Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pegasus and, of course, Perseus. He didn't think he could ever forget that one, if only because it was dedicated to his namesake.

It was like being back at Camp, having dinner in the pavilion after a day of strenuous activities. All it needed was the brazier for sacrifices and he would feel right at home.

A new round of applause forced his attention back on the Hall. His eyes fell on the table closest to Malfoy's, the one occupied by the students in blue and bronze. They were all following the sorting with keen, almost analytical interest, reinforcing the unsettling feeling of being back at Camp, staring at Athena's table. Probably for this reason a head of dirty blonde curls caught his attention. The small girl it belonged to was sitting alone at a corner of the table, a few empty seats separating her from the rest of her House-mates. It made Percy inexplicably sad, maybe because he recognized himself in that image, at least the himself before Camp, when he didn't have any friends. The blonde girl didn't seem to have that many either.

As if sensing his scrutiny, she raised her eyes from the plate and met his squarely. Percy blushed, but the girl didn't look annoyed. She smiled and waved cheerfully, unmindful of the odd stares she was attracting from the students closest to her. Percy grinned in response and was about to wave back when Harry snapped his fingers right in front of his face, distracting him.

"You still with us?" he asked.

"Oh, I – yeah, I mean..." his eyes swept across the Hall, but the girl had gone back to playing with her fork. "Nothing. I was just looking around."

"It's magnificent, isn't it? I never thought something like this could exist before getting my letter."

Percy's heart gave a squeeze. His cousin still sounded _so_ fascinated by Hogwarts, even though he had been attending for over two years.

There were moments he felt the same about Camp, before remembering that it came with a world of bloodthirsty monsters and vengeful Gods. Was that a steep price to pay? He didn't know. And he didn't know what Harry would've to give back to the world for his own personal miracle.

Once the last student had been sorted amid the clapping of her new housemates, Dumbledore got up with a bright smile on his face.

He spread his arms wide, as if he could somehow embrace them all. "Welcome, students, to a new year at Hogwarts! I hope you enjoyed fruitful holidays and that you didn't forget everything you learned last year. Your professors would not be pleased."

A scattering of giggles broke through the silence.

"Before the Feast can begin, I have a few announcements to make. As you've no doubt noticed, Dementors are guarding the castle. After recent... _happenings_ , it was decided by our Minister that one more line of defence couldn't hurt. The Dementors are here to protect us and will stay as long as necessary."

Percy thought he didn't sound happy about that. It seemed no one liked those creatures.

"Despite this, I feel it's my duty to warn you that Dementors are not known for their merciful nature."

Anxious and troubled mutterings echoed throughout the Hall.

"As such, I would advise you all to stay out of their way and to remember that they're not to be tricked by magical disguises or even Invisibility Cloaks." His clear blue eyes darted their way for the briefest of moments as he paused to let his warning sink in.

Well, he needn't worry. He had never even heard of Invisibility Cloaks before that moment.

"I trust our new Head Boy and Girl will make sure no student is to be found out of their dormitory after curfew." He stared down his crooked nose at both a glowing Percy Weasley and a curly haired girl wearing a blue and bronze tie. "On to happier notes, I'm proud to introduce two new members of our staff. I hope you'll welcome them with open arms."

He gestured to Lupin, who got to his feet hesitatingly.

"Professor Remus Lupin will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Students clapped rather unenthusiastically. Percy noticed a number of them eyeing Lupin's shabby robes with sneers on their faces. As far as he was concerned, that was more reason to welcome him warmly: the man could do with a confidence boost.

Lupin smiled serenely, not at all fazed by the mostly cold welcome.

"The second addition is our very own Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to teach Care of Magical Creatures now that Professor Kettleburn retired."

There was a moment of startled silence and then Gryffindor table erupted into tumultuous applause.

Percy pushed himself away from Ron, staring wide-eyed as he pounded his fists on the table. "What the–?"

"I can't believe Professor Dumbledore appointed Hagrid teacher," Hermione shrieked excitedly, her hands clapping furiously, "Oh, he's bound to be _so_ happy!"

"He's our friend!" Harry shouted over the noise. "We'll introduce you soon!"

Percy could only nod.

He glanced at the Head table, his eyes taking in the big, bearded man who had gotten up at Dumbledore's announcement. _Big_ might've been an understatement: he was gigantic, or at least very close to it. He looked kind of how Percy imagined Cyclops to be, only with two eyes instead of one. Maybe that was normal in the wizarding world, but he didn't think the man was a hundred percent human (not that he had any room to talk).

He should've been scary, with his beard covered face and wild, untamed hair, and yet there was something terribly... _fragile_ about him, as if a rude word could undo him.

Maybe it was because he was quite obviously crying: Percy didn't think monsters cried often.

Silence was restored when Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, ready to resume his speech.

Ron decided that he had listened enough for one evening and began a whispered conversation. "Merlin's pants, Snape looks _pissed_."

He pointed at a greasy-haired, sallow skinned professor sitting near McGonagall, Percy guessed for his benefit as the new student.

His eyebrows arched. Ron was right: the man was glaring at Lupin, appearing downright murderous. He whistled under his breath. "Do they know each-other?" That level of animosity couldn't come out of nowhere.

"Don't think so," said Harry. He was studying the professor surreptitiously, his eyes half hidden by his messy hair. "He's probably furious that Dumbledore didn't chose him to teach Defence. Again." He turned around. "Everyone knows he wants that subject."

He must've wanted it a lot because he seemed to be considering manslaughter just to get it. "What does he teach now?"

"Potions," Hermione answered tightly. "He's Head of Slytherin, just like McGonagall is ours."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, but McGonagall doesn't favour us," he gave Percy a meaningful glance, ignoring Hermione's protest of 'Snape doesn't favour Slytherin either. Much.', "He's a right git, mate, and he hates us Gryffindor. Just wait until the first Potions lesson and you'll see."

When neither Harry nor Hermione denied it, something heavy settled in Percy's stomach.

 _Perfect. Just perfect,_ he thought pessimistically. He glanced one more time Snape's way to see he was still glowering at Lupin.

Oh yeah, he had a feeling they were going to be the best of friends.

/

Dinner ended late into the evening. Over it, Percy was introduced to his fellow Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus, who would share a dorm with them, just like Neville, and Lavender and Parvati, the only two other girls in their year. They all seemed quite surprised to learn that Harry had a cousin from the US, but they welcomed him with no hesitation. On his part, Percy found himself a bit taken aback by such a small class. Only eight students – nine, if he counted himself amongst them – in their year and House.

Just as the main courses disappeared to make space for dessert, translucent forms materialized seemingly straight out of the tables. Percy jumped on his seat, his fork and knife slipping from his suddenly rigid fingers.

One of the greyish-silver figure stared at him, appearing almost as startled as Percy was by his presence.

"Well, what's this? A student I've never seen before? You look too old to be a first year!" It exclaimed.

 _He_ exclaimed, Percy corrected himself. The being had the appearance of a man and he was obviously sentient, which made referring to him as an 'it' sound kind of disrespectful.

"Good-evening, Nick." Harry grinned at him. "Did you have a good summer?"

Nick nodded, turning away from Percy to regard Harry pompously. "Same old, same old, my boy. The Headless Hunt rejected my request for admission again!" he huffed, "I dare say I'm almost getting used to it."

"I'm really sorry, Nick."

Percy looked from one to the other, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Whatever the 'Headless Hunt' was, his cousin sounded truly regretful that the...man hadn't been accepted into it.

"But tell me, young Potter," Nick faced him again, "who is the new boy? It wouldn't do for the most important ghost of Gryffindor not to know a member of our esteemed House!"

Only one word of that litany stood out to him: 'ghost'. It was a pretty obvious conclusion now that he thought about it. There weren't many transparent supernatural beings as far as he knew.

"This is Percy Jackson, my cousin," Harry introduced him. "Percy, this is Sir Nicholas. He's Gryffindor's ghost."

Though not entirely sure what that entailed, Percy smiled at him. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He didn't offer his hand; he was pretty certain ghosts couldn't actually touch people or things.

The ghost floated closer and Percy noticed the temperature around them drop slightly. "Mh, I can sort of see the resemblance. Well, we are glad to welcome you to Hogwarts and to Gryffindor, young Percy!"

The rather unexpected meeting left Percy wondering where exactly ghosts came from. He had seen spirits waiting for judgement in the Underworld, but he doubted any of them were allowed to come back to the world of the living, albeit as... _not living_. If they could, there would probably be a heck of a lot more at Camp or even in the mortal world. What made the twenty or so pearly white souls hovering around the Hall different?

Once even the last crumb of dessert had been eaten, and after Dumbledore had once again got up to wish them all a good-night and a pleasant start of term (what a funny guy!), Other-Percy, in his role as Head-Guy, escorted them to the Gryffindor's dormitory.

Percy did his best to memorise the route, but he was feeling quite sated and sleepy after the heavy dinner they had just had. Chiron would've had a coronary had he seen him: a whole summer of eating healthy ruined in one evening. Percy resolved to never tell him.

Gryffindor's Common Room turned out to be in one of the towers, which gave them an unobstructed and frankly breathtaking view of good part of the grounds and of the forest. He thought it would be interesting to explore it, despite – or maybe because of – the rules clearly stating that it was forbidden. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Harry and his friends had ever ventured inside it.

Course, the dementors would be a problem, more so than the teachers and Other-Percy. A shiver shook his body as he remembered the creature from the train. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his trousers and his fingers curled around Riptide reassuringly.

The Common Room itself was circular and...red, was the first thing Percy noticed. Outrageously red. Red carpets, red squashy armchairs strategically placed around a large fireplace, scarlet tapestries on the walls. Wherever he turned, the colour red burned into his irises. It was cosy and warm, but perhaps a bit too much.

He followed Harry and the rest of the boys up a set of spiral staircases and to what would be their dorm for the rest of the year. He located his bed in a matter of seconds: it was the farthest from the door, and his trunk and duffel bag rested at its foot.

Once again, red was everywhere, from the canopy to the covers and even the curtains, half-drawn in front of the windows. There were two of them on the curved side of the dorm with his bed right in the middle. Percy didn't mind one bit.

He dumped his bag's content on the bed as the other boys changed into their pyjamas and he unearthed his sweat and the shirt he slept in from the mess of clothes. His housemates kept up a steady stream of chatter as they got ready for bed, but he listened with only half an ear.

He wanted to call his mom and tell her that everything had gone well – dementor notwithstanding – but he knew he'd have to wait until he was sure he would be alone. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him use an Iris Message.

The same went for Annabeth, who had made him promise to contact her as soon and as often as possible.

Once the dorm was empty, probably right before either lunch or dinner, he'd use the bathroom, at least until he found a better place. There were bound to be abandoned rooms in a castle this big.

"I don't know, guys. Lupin didn't look like much," Seamus was saying, shoving his half-folded uniform into his trunk. "I mean, Lockhart was an idiot, but at least he didn't look starved."

Ron shook his head vehemently. "That's because you didn't see him with that dementor. He was frigging awesome, mate! Tell him, Harry."

"He threw it out of the compartment with just one spell," his cousin confirmed, "I think he'll be a good teacher."

Dean snorted loudly. "It would be a new experience."

Neville, who had already slipped under the covers, leaned towards Percy despite the two beds separating them. "Our previous Defence professors were..." he trailed off, unsure.

"They were a joke," Dean finished for him, "and neither of them lasted longer than a year."

Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He and Seamus had the beds closest to Percy's, with only the windows between them. "Some people think that the position is jinxed."

"Jinxed?" Percy frowned. "You mean cursed?"

Harry nodded. "No one managed to keep it two years in a row in decades."

"Maybe Lupin will be luckier," Seamus offered, apparently having realized that he was outnumbered in his mistrust of the scarred professor.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe."

Percy saw him and Harry exchange a meaningful glance behind the other boys' backs. He suddenly, and for no reason at all, remembered Flitwick's tales about the last two Defence professors at Hogwarts. He knew Harry had something to do with their...precocious retirement and it was obvious Ron was in on it too (and maybe had even had an active hand in it). Their other classmates, though, didn't seem to be informed.

"I hope so," Neville mumbled, "he seems like a good guy."

There were murmurs of agreement from the others, even Seamus.

Percy jumped on the bed. "It doesn't seem like he'd have much of a competition."

"No competition at all, you mean," Dean said, "Still, he better know what he's doing. With Black on the run we cannot afford to have a lousy Defence teacher."

Percy violently suppressed the urge to look at Harry. Ron wasn't as subtle: he paled at the mention of Black and he glanced at his best friend with obvious worry.

"Why would Black come here?" asked Seamus, "I don't think he's all that interested in a school full of children. If I was him, I would go after You-Know-Who's former opponents and not waste time –" he snapped his mouth shut, going white as a sheet.

Dean and Neville didn't say anything, but there was no way they hadn't understood the implications of Seamus' reasoning.

Harry kept his eyes carefully averted from all of them.

Percy didn't need an in-depth knowledge of the wizarding world to know what was going on. Even if he hadn't overheard the damning conversation between Ron's parents, he would have still been able to put two and two together. Black wanted to avenge his former master; Harry had been the cause of said master's death – the conclusion was fairly straightforward.

After that conversation was a bit stilted, though it was obvious Harry was doing his best to keep everyone's thoughts away from Black and his possible plans.

They turned the lights off less than half an hour later. Ron started snoring after only a few minutes, and the others didn't take long to follow him into Morpheus' embrace.

Percy laid awake under the covers, staring at the single ray of moonlight left to illuminate the room. It was becoming increasingly obvious that everyone in wizarding Britain considered Black a real threat and he couldn't help but wonder if he perhaps hadn't been too laid-back in his reaction to Mr and Mrs Weasley's argument.

What if the professors and even the dementors weren't enough to protect Harry from him?

From Harry's suspiciously calibrated breathing, he suspected he wasn't the only one tormented by that possibility.

/

/

The setting sun painted Camp Half-Blood red and orange, drawing long shadows over the valley and across the Cabins.

Chiron contemplated the shimmering lake from the porch of the Big House, disquiet twisting his thoughts. The few demigods who hadn't left to go back to school and to their mortal families were abandoning their activities to get ready for dinner, but he could still hear the faint clanging of swords from the Arena where Clarisse and her siblings were no doubt still training.

For the first time in years, neither Annabeth nor Luke were to be found in the noisy crowd of half-bloods, though for vastly different reasons, and Chiron once again felt a pang of unease in his stomach. He didn't like the way things were shaping up.

"Your grandmother was worried, I take it?" he inquired, turning his back on the scenery to face Kikyou.

The young daughter of Apollo was sitting on one of the comfy – or so everyone said – rocking chairs, wearing a blue and white school uniform instead of the customary orange t-shirt. She had come to the Long Island Sound all the way from her house in Brooklyn just to warn him of a potential problem, though it was certainly not what he had expected after receiving her Iris Message.

She nodded. "Sobo said he's really persistent. She did tell him a few things to placate him, but not much."

He had feared as such. Dumbledore was fairly well known even in the Greek world, mostly for his interest in Death's gifts and his relationship with a former dark wizard. Aphrodite had had a field day with them, gushing about impossible love and heartbreak., that much Chiron remembered.

"Hopefully the little she revealed will keep him satisfied for a while."

Kikyou gave voice to his concern. "Do you think he could, like, find out something about us? I mean, we are well hidden, aren't we?"

His tail swished in an agitated manner. "That we are," he answered in a non-committal way, "I do not believe we have anything to worry about. Yet."

The girl appeared marginally relieved, but while he had wanted to make her feel secure, he didn't fool himself into thinking that Dumbledore's interest was harmless.

It was unlikely he would ever find them, but Dumbledore was an intelligent and shrewd man and there was no saying he wouldn't stumble upon dangerous clues. Gellert Grindelwald had certainly come close to the truth.

Because of this, Chiron was going to send a message to Olympus. Better safe than sorry, as they said, and the Gods liked to be warned about this sort of things, even when nothing came of it. Paranoid they were and no one could deny that.

"He said he was here because of a student," Kikyou went on, "Do you know anything about that?"

"No," he lied without hesitation or remorse. He knew Kikyou had only Camp's best interests in mind, but it was not his secret to share. "Only what you told me."

"Do you think he came to New York because of us?" she twisted a lock of hair around a finger, biting her lip nervously. "It's strange for the Headmaster of such an important school to take time off just for a student."

This time Chiron didn't have to lie. "Even when said student is the child who miraculously vanquished a Dark Lord before he could even talk? No, I believe he truly came to help the young Potter and that visiting your grandmother was simply a beneficial side-effect."

Dionysus chose that moment to wander out into the porch, throwing Kikyou a disdainful look as he went. The girl herself stared back at him stonily, not in the least intimidated by him.

The children were getting used to the God's presence, almost worryingly so.

"What's the brat doing here? Shouldn't she be training? As if that will keep her out of a monster's stomach!" He sat down on his usual chair by the table.

"Do try to be nice, Mr D. We talked about that," Chiron sighed, sending Kikyou's an apologetic look.

"I don't even live here during winter," the girl grumbled darkly.

"Bha!" Dionysus waved her objection away, as usual completely ignoring Chiron's scolding, "You think I keep track of all you brats? I have better things to do with my time!"

"Be that as it may," Chiron interjected swiftly, "Kikyou stopped by to share her fears over an unexpected visit her grandmother received, something that concerns us all." He smiled at her, "I don't believe it shall happen again, but in the case I'm wrong would you keep me updated?"

"Sure thing." She got up, her bad mood over Dionysus' snide remarks put aside, "I'll see you next weekend, Chiron. Goodbye, Mr D."

Chiron watched as she ran to the top of Half-Blood Hill where Argus was waiting for her. She stopped near Thalia's pine and turned around to wave, giving the valley one last look. Chiron waved back as she got into the white SUV.

"You spoil them," Dionysus said, "how are they supposed to be prepared for what's out there?"

Chiron sighed. "And you are too hard. Afraid you'll get attached?"

The God glared at him. "Only a fool would get attached to fragile things like mortals."

"You forget I've been a trainer of Heroes for a long time. They have ways of getting under your skin, whether you want it or not."

Dionysus ignored him, but Chiron didn't mind. He already knew the God was infinitely more compassionate than he seemed.

He pulled his fake wheelchair closer to the table and carefully sat down, folding first his hind legs and then the rest of his horse body into the magically expanded space. "Dumbledore was in New York a few weeks ago. He stopped by Kikyou's grandmother's house."

A goblet of Diet Coke appeared in Dionysus' hand. "Dumbledore the wizard?"

"Yes. Apparently, he is set on closing his former lover's _investigation._ "

Dionysus made a contemplative sound at the back of his throat, sipping the beverage. "Mh. Is that what has you so worried? That a mortal wizard is going to discover all our secrets? I don't have to tell you how unlikely that is, my old friend."

Chiron shook his head. "It's not for us I'm worried about. No matter how powerful he is, he would still be little more than a nuisance to the Gods. But there are others we must think about," he looked out towards the Cabins. One of the Stoll brothers was being chased by an enraged Clarisse, spear at the ready, while a crowd of amused teenagers laughed and took bets. "There are demigods living and studying among mortals, even in Dumbledore's own school; and those who live at Camp still have to interact with the rest of the world every once in a while. If someone found out about them and made the news public, they would be in terrible danger. As you said, they _are_ rather fragile," he sighed, "and you Gods would not be allowed to interfere."

Dionysus didn't lift his eyes from the goblet, but a deep crease had appeared over his brow. "Dumbledore would never tell anyone. He's curious, but not stupid and I believe he wouldn't want to endanger children for his own peace of mind."

"Perhaps you are correct," Chiron admitted.

Dionysus was more perspective than most gave him credit for and he understood human nature better than his fellow Gods, having once been a half-blood himself. If he didn't think Dumbledore could be a threat to the children then he probably wasn't.

"Does all of this have something to do with the Iris Message you received from uncle Poseidon's ungrateful brat?"

Chiron hid his wince. It seemed he too sometimes forgot just how observant Dionysus could be. "Ah, well, it seems young Percy is more than just a demigod. He has been invited to attend Hogwarts."

Dionysus snorted. "I knew that boy was trouble from the first time I saw him. Rude, disrespectful and a danger to our society!"

"Mr D, he isn't–"

"I don't know what Father was thinking letting him live. We should –"

The ground trembled, sending Dionysus' goblet crashing to the floor. The kids still lingering around the Cabins halted all their activities at once and they turned to stare at the sky as one, their hands around various weapons.

Dionysus rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to touch an hair on your precious whelp's head, Uncle. No need to get testy," he half-shouted to the sky. In a normal tone, he said, "Protective, isn't he?"

"As you would be if someone threatened Castor or Pollux," Chiron pointed out.

"Neither of my children are fated to bring about the destruction of Olympus," Dionysus countered snidely. He snapped his finger and a new glass of Diet Coke materialized. "Unlike that Perry Johnson, I might add."

"Percy Jackson," Chiron corrected, "and you _might_ remember that he could also be fated to save it."

Dionysus' eyes danced with amusement. "You really believe that?"

"With all of myself," he stated firmly. Percy might've been rude and disrespectful and he certainly didn't have the training necessary to drive back a threat of Kronos' magnitude, but his heart was in the right place and sometimes that was all that mattered with Heroes. The rest would come with time, of that he was sure.

The God raised his glass. "Well then, let's have a toast to a young hero. That he may grow up to be better and fairer than his predecessors."

/

/

I thought long and hard about what House Percy should be sorted in. Like with most (well-written) characters, he is suited to more than one. I eliminated Ravenclaw almost from the start – while Percy is intelligent and 'possessing of a healthy dose of ingenuity', as the Hat said, he does not love knowledge for the sake of knowledge and I feel that's possibly the most important trait of a Ravenclaw.

I was left with the other three. Percy's fatal flaw is loyalty, as you all know, and that would make him the perfect Hufflepuff, but he is also courageous like a Gryffindor and cunning like a Slytherin (I'll fight anyone who says Percy isn't cunning. He won a good half of his fights just by outsmarting his enemies). I eliminated Slytherin. Why?, you ask. Well, the most important traits of Slytherin House are ambition and self-preservation. Percy turned down godhood and he doesn't have an ounce of self-preservation. If anything, he is self-sacrificing, which was what convinced me to sort him in Gryffindor. While Hufflepuff can be self-sacrificing too, I always saw it as more of a Gryffindor trait (Harry himself is certainly proof of that).

Moreover, in my mind Gryffindor and Slytherin always were incredibly alike. Both willing to do everything it takes to get what they want, be it winning a fight or protecting someone they love, but while Slytherins are geared more towards personal success (nothing wrong with that), Gryffindors are more concerned with the 'Greater Good' (which is not always a good thing).

Also, as I wrote in the chapter, I think that the Hat sees as more important the traits a person considers fundamental as opposed to the one they possess. Percy always strives to be brave, maybe because he often felt he wouldn't amount to anything as a child.

I know some people are going to be disappointed. No matter what House I chose, someone would've considered it in a way 'cliché'. I read a few HP/PJO crossovers and the only House I never saw Percy sorted in is Ravenclaw, but it is also the one he is least suited to and I wasn't going to put him there just to be 'original'.

Of course, all this is just my personal opinion; it's just the way _I_ see the Houses of Hogwarts and Percy.

Thank you for reading!

 **Next chapter:** we meet an old friend of Dumbledore.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** First chapter of the year! And it's even longer than the previous. I really do need to control myself.

Joking aside, I hope the first days of 2017 have been good to you guys. I was sick up to yesterday, but at least that meant I didn't have to go to work, so there's that. And I also ate way too much during the holidays. Oh, well.

I just need to say a few things before letting you read the chapter peacefully.

One, the island of Juist is a real place in the North Sea and I'm told the climate is actually pretty mild, but it was geographically too perfect not to use it in the story and so I changed a few details. Consider it poetic license (Am I allowed it?).

Two, I really hope I got Hagrid's voice and accent right. Writing him was challenging, to say the least. I tried to follow JKR's 'rules' as much as possible.

Three, in the original (and only) Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry and co. arrive at Hogwarts on a weekday and lessons start the morning after. Because I'm a perfectionist and somewhat OCD, I checked and found out that the second of September in 2006 was a Saturday. I decide to roll with it to give Percy a bit more time to get used to Hogwarts. (I even checked the time of dawn for that day in Scotland, that's how obsessed I am. It was between 5:32 and 5:38 if you're interested).

Four, you know what's the hardest part of writing a chapter? Finding a title. I should've gone with numbers.

Once again **thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story.**

And now, onwards, my valiant readers! Let me know if you liked it, if you found mistakes ecc ecc, if you have the time, of course. Thank you!

 **Warning:** a bit of language.

 **Disclaimer:** As always, I own absolutely nothing you recognize. If anything, I'm even poorer than I was last time. Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

/

 **Chapter 8 – In which our heroes are tormented by their demons**

A violent storm had just broken out over the North Sea when Albus apparated on Juist's shore. The biting wind seized his cloak and pulled him back towards the raging water, but he stood firm, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the forbidding fortress towering over him.

It had been long years since he had last visited this place, but Nurmengard hadn't changed in the slightest.

Albus trudged forward, fighting against the gale every step of the way. He kept his head low and a hand on his hood. Reaching the prison's main entrance offered him little protection, but he huddled against the cold metal door all the same as he knocked loudly on it.

As he waited to be let in, he did everything in his power to ignore the slogan carved over the entrance, a grim reminder of the painful, unforgivable mistakes he had committed in his youth.

 _Für das Größere Wohl._

For the Greater Good.

The door was pulled open moments later by a witch wearing the standard blue uniform of German Aurors.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she half-shouted in German, trying to be heard over the howling wind, "come inside!"

She hooked an arm through Albus' own, helping him over the threshold. Then, straining against the fury of the elements, she pushed the door closed once again, shutting out the sounds of the storm.

"Damn," she muttered, leaning against it.

Albus pulled off his cloak, rendered now useless and heavy from the rain and from the freezing spray of the sea. He savoured the limited warmth of the shadowed hall after the long minutes spent in the downpour.

"It seems I've chosen the wrong day to visit," he observed mildly.

The woman snorted. "I don't think there is a _right_ day. This is actually pretty tame by our usual standards." She pushed the hood off her head, revealing hair so blonde it was almost white. "Captain Beckmeyer is waiting for us in the control room. If you could follow me."

"Of course." Albus motioned her to show him the way.

They walked up a set of dilapidated stairs, the light coming out of their wands the only illumination available. Even though several floors separated them from the half-empty wing where the prisoners resided, Albus could already hear some of them screaming. There were no Dementors in Nurmengard, nor were the prisoners tortured or mistreated, but some of them had been... _unstable_ before being brought in and many had gone crazy in the years afterwards. Their screams were a normal occurrence as far as Albus remembered.

Only one inmate never uttered a sound.

The stairs took them to a long, dark corridor. Dampness had turned the once polished grey walls an ugly murky colour and the floor into a slippery trap, forcing Albus to take careful, measured steps forward so as not to lose his balance. They stopped in front of a scraped wooden door. His guide knocked, but didn't wait for permission to enter, pushing the door open and inviting him forward.

Two more women and a man waited on the other side. The latter, a brown-haired, bespectacled lad in his thirties, was wearing the same blue uniform as the blonde Auror; one of the women, the younger one, was dressed in the white robes typical of medi-wizards and witches.

Albus recognized the last woman at once.

Captain Beckmeyer was sitting behind a solid oak desk, but she got up as soon as they entered the control room. She was almost as tall as him and dark skinned, with curly hair tied back in a pony-tail and dark, intelligent eyes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she greeted in German, "you are late."

Albus answered in kind, unwilling to be rude by forcing her to use English, "My apologies, Captain. Leaving England is not easy right now, not even for me."

Beckmeyer nodded as if she had been expecting that. "No signs of Black then, I take it?"

"Not yet, unfortunately," Albus sighed, "we are hoping to find him before he can get anywhere close to Hogwarts."

The young man leaned forward on his seat, an eager expression on his tanned face. "Is it true then, what they are saying at our Ministry? He wants the Potter child?"

Beckmeyer aimed his way a glare that promised retribution, backed by all the authority of her position, but the man just shrugged impenitently, earning himself a kick on the shin from the red-haired woman sitting next to him.

"Ah, well, we certainly hope not," Albus answered evasively. He didn't wish to discuss such delicate matters with a complete stranger, especially not inside the walls of Nurmengard. "We just prefer to be prepared, just in case."

The other man didn't appear satisfied. "Of course. Just in case."

"Forgive him, Headmaster," Beckmeyer interjected, a dark scowl still lingering over her face, "Dahn doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."

Once again, the Auror in question looked way too unconcerned for someone who had just made himself the target of a superior's scorn, especially when said superior was as respected and renown as Beckmeyer.

A trickle of unease went down Albus' spine.

"I received your letter, Professor," Beckmeyer went on, picking up a heavy-looking envelope from her desk. Albus recognized his own handwriting on it. "You understand, I trust, that we usually don't allow prisoners to receive visits without first going through the necessary, if slow, channels. And considering the identity of the inmate you wish to see..."

"I understand perfectly, Captain," Albus assured, "unfortunately, I believe Grindelwald may have information of the utmost importance and I cannot afford to tarry," he made himself look as regretful as possible, "I wouldn't ask that of you if it wasn't necessary."

A thin smile broke through Beckmeyer's hard demeanour. "Really? I wasn't aware Grindelwald had been allowed contact with the outside world since his imprisonment. One could wonder exactly what kind of information he could've kept to himself all these years."

Albus beamed benignly. "Ah, Gellert always liked his secrets. It's nothing to worry about, my dear Captain, I assure you. Just an old man's curiosity."

Dahn snorted loudly, but they all ignored him, though Albus heard his blonde-haired guide hiss something under her breath.

Beckmeyer shook her head. "Of course. Well, only because it's you, Supreme Mugwump, but if I get in trouble you'll own me a job."

Albus laughed. "Hogwarts is always in need of a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, my dear," he confided, "though I hope this one will last a bit longer."

The woman tapped a drawer hidden under the desk with her wand and it sprang open. She pulled out a set of keys; it glowed sinisterly against the dark skin of her hand.

"Doerflein," she called to the red-haired medi-witch, "show the Professor to Grindelwald's cell and then make your rounds. Eltz will come with you."

Dahn frowned. "But what about –"

" _You,_ Dahn," Beckmeyer interrupted him forcefully, "will take Eltz's place at the entrance." She stared at him, an eyebrow raised, daring him to complain. "Is that _acceptable_?"

The man grumbled moodily, but he nodded, though he looked in no way happy about it.

Beckmeyer turned back to his guide, who had already opened the door and was waiting for further instructions half-way out of the room. The screams of the inmates echoed inside the small control room. "There is no need for you to accompany him all the way up the tower. Stick with Doerflein as she makes her rounds: the less people come in contact with Grindelwald, the better off we'll all be. I hope you understand, Headmaster," she added, "it's not that I don't care about your safety, but I don't want my men and women closer than necessary to him. I know you can take care of yourself."

Albus waved her worries aside. "I beat him when he was in his prime and a free man. I believe I can keep him under control from the other side of a cell."

Beckmeyer passed the keys over to Doerflein. "Very well. You have an hour and not a minute more. I suggest you hurry."

Albus followed Eltz outside, Doerflein bringing up the rear. The door closed with a loud thud behind them, cutting off the sound of Dahn's voice.

Eltz tsked. "Always complaining."

Doerflein lengthened her stride, joining Albus right behind the blonde Auror. "You two could at least _try_ to get along, you know." She looked up at Albus, "They are always nagging at each-other. I have no idea why Beckmeyer decided to pair them up."

Eltz rolled her eyes. "I don't think Headmaster Dumbledore is interested in your gossip, Agneta."

"Don't worry, my dear. I don't mind a bit of small talk every once in a while." He winked at them.

Agneta smiled smugly at her co-worker, prompting another eye-roll out of Eltz.

She brought the conversation back on the topic of Albus' visit just as they climbed the second flight of stairs. Unless Gellert had been given a new cell since his last visit, they'd have to walk all the way up to the highest and most isolated peak of the fortress to see him. "You have been here before, professor?"

"I have. More than once, in fact, but it's been a long time ago. Over ten years, I seem to recall. You probably were still in school at the time."

"We both were," Agneta answered.

"Are you going to tell us why you really are here?" Eltz asked.

Albus chuckled. "You think I lied, my dear?"

The Auror snorted. "Beckmeyer wouldn't have let you see him if she thought you were only curious. Trust me, we have our fair share of busybodies coming here just to get a peek at the infamous Dark Lord."

A lump formed in Albus' throat. His best friend, the young man he had once looked up to, reduced to nothing more than an oddity inside a cage...

"You needn't worry," he managed to choke out, "I wasn't lying when I said I needed to talk to him."

"I hope you find out what you need, then," said Eltz, coming to a stop, "here is where we leave you, professor. You'll have to go up on your own."

The stairs ended on a small, mouldy door, its edges green with rot. A heavy chain, fastened to a brass ring on the wall, hung on its handle. The only thing that looked new and well-kept, and whose gleam attracted Albus' gaze, was the padlock. Eltz took the keys from her colleague and opened it; the chain slid to the floor with a clatter that echoed down the steps and against the walls of the prison. The screaming inmates quietened for a moment before picking up their maddening litany with even more fervour.

"I'm going to lock the door after you, professor." Eltz seemed slightly embarrassed as she said that. "It's a matter of security. Send a Patronus once you're done and we'll come to get you."

Albus assured them he would do just that, thanked them with a smile and stepped over the threshold, bending over to avoid bumping his head on the low ceiling. The door creaked closed, plunging him into darkness, and he heard the rattle of the chain as it was replaced.

 _Lumos,_ he thought. The tip of his wand flared to life.

He was in a corridor so small it resembled a room. Dust covered the floor, undisturbed by human steps, and cobwebs dangled from every corner. A cold, gentle breeze came from somewhere to his left, taking with it the salty smell of the sea, but Albus couldn't detect even the smallest of gaps in the walls.

One more flight of rickety stairs awaited him, disappearing into the darkness of the tower.

Albus took a fortifying breath. He had a date with his past to keep.

/

Gellert resided in a cell on the top floor of the tower, the only prisoner there. European authorities had believed it necessary to keep him isolated from the other inmates: magically restricted he could be, but his mind was as ready and his tongue as sharp as ever.

Albus' hands twitched with the urge to wrap themselves around the bars as he came to a stop in front of the cell, but he resisted the temptation, if only because he was well-aware of the protective curses laid upon them.

His former friend was sitting on his small cot, staring at him. One of his eyebrows was arched, his face set in that mocking expression Albus remembered so well. If he was surprised to see him, he didn't show it, though he had always been rather good at hiding his emotions. Even better than Albus himself, in fact.

"I thought you had given up on visiting me," he offered as a way of greeting, his voice hoarse from years of disuse.

Albus didn't try to deny it. "I had. I saw no reason to keep coming here – you certainly didn't seem to appreciate it."

Gellert's snort was cut off by a violent coughing fit. "You are out there," he said, rather uselessly, as soon as he got his breath back, "and I'm in here. _You_ are also the one who put _me_ here, incidentally. I don't see anything to be _appreciative_ of."

Albus sighed. That was an old argument. "It's not like you gave me any other choice, Gellert."

"You could've sided with me," the man pointed out, shrugging lightly. One of the sleeves of his shirt slipped off with the movement, exposing a painfully bony shoulder. Albus' heart ached at the sight. "But I guess you couldn't turn your back on your principles any more than I."

There wasn't even the barest trace of anger in his voice, which was surprising. Gellert had had a hard time getting over Albus' 'betrayal', as he had liked to call it, to the point that when they had last talked, over ten years ago, it had been obvious he had still felt more than slightly resentful.

Gellert pulled himself up, bracing against the dirty wall so that his trembling legs wouldn't collapse under his weight.

Albus feared that wouldn't be enough. The long years of imprisonment were putting a visible strain on the former Dark Lord, more so than the last time Albus had seen him. He was quite obviously malnourished. Even through the thin material of his shirt, Albus could see his ribs poking against his fragile skin; his once elegant fingers were little more than bones now and his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut through the skin of his face. The gold had faded from his hair, washed away by decades of neglect, and his curls were stringy and dirty. Albus wouldn't have recognized him as the handsome young man he had met in Godric's Hollow almost a century before if not for the lively light shining in the depths of his grey eyes.

Gellert must have noticed his softened gaze because he snorted again. "Don't give me that look, Albus. I'm just getting old," he jutted his chin out, daring him to disagree, "just as you are."

He stopped a few centimetres from the bars. Even inside the cell, Albus knew, there were wards preventing him from coming closer as a last precautionary measure. Just as he remembered this rather relevant fact, he was seized by the sudden and irrational need to take one of Gellert's hand in his own.

Gellert himself seemed to waver between the desire to take one more step forward and the knowledge that it would only hurt him. He swayed lightly on his feet, indecision clouding his expression.

"Why are you here?" he wondered in the end, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "I doubt you suddenly felt the need to see me again after all these years."

Albus sighed. He _had_ missed him, in fact. Or better, he had missed and _still_ missed the young man Gellert had been, the one willing to do just about anything to achieve his goals, but who was also open and honest with the people he cared about, few as they were.

Still to this day, he had no idea when that boy had disappeared: it seemed to him that he had been there one day and gone the next.

The truth was, of course, that he had simply been too blind to see what was going on right under his nose, as Aberforth was rather fond of reminding him at least once a week and even two or three times a day during important celebrations.

"I saw Ryusaki Saya a few weeks ago," was the only thing he said, "you remember her?"

Gellert grimaced. "She's not easy to forget. A thorn in my side, that she was. Not as bad as you, of course. No one was as bad as you." He cocked his head to the side. "This still doesn't tell me why you are here."

"She shared with me information I thought you'd find interesting. About the Greek Gods."

Gellert's back straightened suddenly and he took that last step forward. The incautious move triggered warning sparks from the wards.

They both ignored it.

"I thought you had given up on this sort of things, that it was too similar to our quest for the Deathly Hallows."

 _Your quest_ , he thought. He didn't let the objection slip out. It was a lie, anyway.

"I was in New York on unrelated business," he said instead, ignoring as Gellert's blood-less lips pulled into a victorious smirk, "I thought it couldn't hurt to close this...investigation once and for all if possible."

Gellert hummed contemplatively.

A wave of nostalgia hit Albus out of nowhere. For a moment, they were back in his house in Godric's Hollow, exchanging unlikely theories and dreaming of a different world. It passed as it had come and he was sucked back into the gloomy atmosphere of Nurmengard's tower. Instead of the desk submerged by papers he could see in his mind's eyes, iron bars stood between him and his former best friend.

"And?"

"She admitted you were right," Albus revealed.

Gellert sniggered and it soon turned into a full-blown laugh, loud and real. It echoed all around the tower, but it did nothing to lighten the mood. If anything, such an out-of-place sound only managed to make the place feel even drearier.

Albus' hand inched towards his wand of its own volition and for no reason at all.

"Oh my," Gellert wheezed, "I wish I could've seen her face. That must've killed her."

He pressed a hand to his chest, as if the sudden bout of hilarity had made his heart skip a beat.

Albus raised an eye-brow. "I wouldn't say so. Saya is an adult woman and perfectly capable of behaving as such." He stared at Gellert over the rim of his glasses, so used to dealing with unruly students that he automatically found solace in his teaching methods when confronted with disrespect. "Unlike you," he added.

"Don't even try it, Albus!" Gellert glared at him. "I'm not one of your brats that you can guilt into compliance. I'm bored: I have to make do with the little I can get."

Albus raised his hands in surrender. "If imagining Saya as a capricious child makes you feel better..."

"It does." Gellert ended the discussion sharply. "But I want to know what she told you."

"There isn't much more to say," Albus began, "She just confirmed that they are indeed in New York and that their half-human children are hidden somewhere probably close by."

"Ah, the demigods," Gellert peered at him maliciously from under his lashes, "those are hybrids I wouldn't have minded getting my hands on."

Albus froze, unexpectedly taken aback by the racist remark.

The other man stared at him, his eyes glinting hungrily.

Albus resolved not to give him the satisfaction of a hot-headed reaction. He had somehow deluded himself into thinking that Gellert would be different – that he would be _wiser_ , perhaps – but he wasn't going to commit the same mistake twice in a row. Objecting to his spiteful comment would get him nowhere, anyway.

"Disappointing," Gellert murmured, though whether he was referring to Albus' lacklustre reaction or the information in general, he couldn't know. "I was already aware of that, of course. During the years I spent in New York, I discovered – through dumb luck alone, I admit – that these children are closer to us than we'd expect and definitely more dangerous than I had dared to hope for."

"Has your obsession with the Hallows taught you nothing?" Albus sighed, "Danger and power is rarely a good combination."

Gellert scoffed. "And what has 'my' obsession taught you, Albus? You fear power so much that you gladly turned your back on the pleas of the magical population as I wrought destruction to Europe, even though you could've stopped me." He grinned viciously, showing his yellowing teeth. "And I suspect I'm not the only Dark Lord you refused to fight. They say that British upstart feared you and yet it was a mere baby that killed him." He spat on the ground. "What an embarrassment."

Albus exhaled slowly, counting up to ten.

Gellert had always had the devastating ability to bring his more passionate side to the forefront, whether for better or for worse. Even when they were friends, he had often felt torn between kissing him and slamming his head against the first available hard surface.

"It was not fear of power that made me hesitate in confronting you," he confessed once he had got himself under control, "I believe you know that."

Gellert leaned more heavily against the wall, his eyes fixed on a point above Albus' shoulder.

"While Tom feared me, I admit he had no reason to. I'm not as powerful as him and I have no doubt he would've beaten me sooner or later."

Gellert scowled. "You offend me. I would _not_ have been defeated by a weakling."

Albus smiled. "But of course. As you yourself said, though, I'm not as young as I used to be, nor as powerful. A new generation is about to take our place and Voldemort is, unfortunately, part of it."

"You were always too philosophical for my tastes." Gellert rolled his eyes. "How did I put up with you?"

"And you were way too rash for someone who wanted to create an empire from scratch."

"I had _you_ to rein me in," he muttered darkly, "before your conscience destroyed any scrap of free thought you ever had."

Albus decided that pointing out his idea of 'freedom of thought' was murdering anyone who didn't agree with him would be an utter waste of time. "The fight against injustice can't rely on me anymore. Voldemort is someone else's enemy."

"You mean the Potter boy's," Gellert said, "Since when do you let children die in your place?"

Albus looked away. Breathing got suddenly difficult, as if something heavy had settled over his chest. "Why are you so sure Harry would die?"

"The real question is: why are _you_?"

Albus glared at the wall in front of him, unable to meet Gellert's eyes.

"Ah, hit a raw nerve, didn't I?" Gellert crowed, "You can't fool me, Albus. I saw that guilty look."

"I didn't come here to discuss one of my students, but simply to share what I had found out as a personal favour to you."

"You didn't find out anything I didn't already know. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know more than you do." He smirked. "Are you interested in a trade?"

"No," Albus answered flatly, "I believe this conversation is over."

He turned his back on his former friend, set on leaving the prison once and for all.

"Always running away from the consequences of your actions, hm? You can do better than that."

Albus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He faced Gellert again, though his brain was screaming at him to leave before the other man could get into his head.

"You have a plan," Gellert went on, "of course you do. You always had a plan. What I don't understand is _why_? Why risk your crusade's success on a child?"

Albus wet his lips. "There are many things you don't know. The situation is more complicated than it seems."

Gellert studied his expression for a long moment. "You aren't going to tell me."

Albus almost scoffed. Even if he wasn't the same man who had cut a bloody path of destruction through Europe, Gellert was still a conniving, lying, backstabbing dark wizard. Certainly not the kind of person he wished to disclose his tentative plans to.

"I'm hurt by your lack of faith." Gellert brought a hand to his chest.

"You'll survive," Albus deadpanned.

"Probably. You, on the other hand, will be killed by your guilt over the kid's death. Sad, really."

Albus felt the sudden urge to curse him for all he was worth. "I'm simply doing what is necessary." Why was he still explaining himself to Gellert? The other man was certainly in no position to either judge or advise him.

"For the Greater Good?" Gellert mocked. When Albus didn't answer, he went on, "You are not as cold or as distant as you like to think, not by a long shot. It will destroy you to use the Potter boy, believe me."

Albus inhaled sharply. "And so be it. If Harry knew why..." Would he sacrifice himself to kill Voldemort? Yes, he probably would and that, somehow, made everything worse, if that was even possible. Harry wouldn't even fight for his own life.

"Ah, yes. I get the feeling that the boy is a great deal less selfish than we are. But what does it matter? It's you I'm talking about."

"And why do you care?" Albus wondered, half curious and half annoyed, "What I do is not something that concerns you and I don't believe for a moment you care what happens to a child you have never even seen."

"No, I definitely don't care what happens to him."

There was a secret behind Gellert's lopsided smile. He was hinting at something and he found it funny that Albus didn't get it.

"He doesn't stand a chance against Voldemort, you know that, right?"

Perhaps, or perhaps not. But he had a plan that contemplated Harry's survival and he had every intention of seeing it come to fruition.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," was the only thing Albus offered.

Gellert's grin widened slowly. "What I wouldn't give to know what's going on in that mind of yours..."

"You'll have to live with the mystery for now."

Gellert laughed again and he kept laughing as Albus turned around and walked down the corridor. He had taken only a few steps when Gellert's laugh faded away.

"Albus?" he called in the sudden silence.

Albus glanced at him over his shoulder. He had moved to the farthest corner of the cell so that he could keep him in his line of sight.

"If you _do_ decide to continue my research on the Gods, do be careful, will you?"

Albus turned all the way. "I don't. I just took advantage of my brief visit to New York to find out something more. I don't plan on going back."

Gellert looked sceptical. "Please. I know how curious you are. I... wish you wouldn't underestimate the danger inherent to some of your studies. You were right before, when you said it's not always a good thing, especially when combined with power. The idea of demigods is perhaps a fascinating one, but I don't believe it would be such a good idea to approach one of them."

Albus walked back to the cell, though he regretted it a bit when he saw just how much satisfaction that gave Gellert.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"It has been a while since anyone stopped to talk with me so I thought I'd return the favour." He shrugged unconcernedly. "In the interest of fairness and all that."

Albus doubted that was all there was to it: Gellert had rarely concerned himself with silly things like fairness. His treacherous heart was glad that the other man still worried about him and his mind felt an outstanding amount of guilt over it.

"I assure you, I do not plan on dying anytime soon."

"Unless old age catches up with you," Gellert added, staring at his own hands. He was shivering, probably from the cold. "You don't look good."

Albus chuckled. "Goodnight, Gellert. Seeing you was..." _heart-breaking,_ "enlightening, to say the least."

Gellert waved with his hand. He had gone back to his cot and swung the flimsy sheet over his shoulders. "Try to come visit again. I get bored easily these days."

Albus walked away, hiding his smile. It wasn't right that he would feel so happy at the idea of seeing a mass-murderer again, but the heart wanted what the heart wanted.

Maybe he would come back to visit, after all.

/

/

Percy strained his ears, careful to catch any suspicious noise from the next room.

Nothing broke the quiet of the early morning hours but the rustle of sheets and Ron's loud snoring. He wondered how the other boys managed to sleep in that ruckus, but perhaps he had just grown unused to sharing a room over the summer.

He checked the door once more, making sure he had locked it, and then settled himself on the floor by the shower and turned the water on, secure in his ability to keep it from flooding the room.

He concentrated on the spray, willing it to raise. Nothing happened for a moment; then Percy felt a slight tug in his gut and the water lurched upwards and forwards, forming an arch right in front of the only window in the room. The light of dawn filtered through it and a rainbow appeared from the mist exactly where the two elements came in contact.

Percy fished a drachma out of his sweats pocket and he threw it at the rainbow.

"Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Sally Jackson, Manhattan."

The rays of the sun hit the golden drachma and it twinkled as it dissolved into nothingness.

He was left staring at the empty rainbow for a few interminable seconds.

Then, just as he was beginning to feel anxious, wondering if maybe Iris had laws on transatlantic communications he was not aware of, the image of a living room immersed in darkness materialized in the rainbow. The only light in that faraway room came from the screen of a laptop: its bluish luminescence threw strange shadows across his mother's tired face.

Percy drank in the sight of her, feeling as if weeks had passed since he had last seen her instead of barely two days.

She was already in her pyjamas, her long brown hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun; her fingers flew over the keyboard with almost feverish fervour. Percy hesitated, loathe to disturb her while she was working on her stories, but then he remembered the need he had felt to talk to her as soon as he had woken and he selfishly gave up.

"Mom?"

Her head snapped up. Her blue eyes, wide with surprise, searched the whole room before settling on the Iris Message and on him. A soft smile spread over her face.

"Percy…" she moved the computer from her lap and slipped off the couch, uncrossing her legs. She kneeled in front of the rainbow so they sat eye to eye. "Hi, honey. How are you?"

Percy grinned. "Good. I'm sorry I disturbed you, but I wanted to talk."

His mom shook her head. "Don't worry. I was still awake, anyway." She frowned. "You, on the other hand…shouldn't you still be sleeping? It's, what, six in the morning there?"

"Almost. I didn't want to wait until tonight to call you so I got up early," Percy admitted sheepishly, "and this way I don't have to worry about the others."

"Well, then. Tell me about Hogwarts. How was the journey to Scotland? Where did you get sorted?"

Percy fumbled for words. "The journey was – it was…nice, yeah. The train was…nice."

She looked at him strange.

"You know," he started again, trying to inject a bit more cheerfulness into his words, "there was food and – and lots of people. Nice people. But nothing particular happened."

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You are a terrible liar."

Percy willed his eyes to widen innocently. "I'm not lying," he stated firmly, with passion and just a touch of outrage, enough to make her think her distrust had hurt his feelings. It was the truth, after all: he wasn't lying, but simply keeping a few choice information to himself. Like the fact that a Demethingy had tried to have him for lunch. "It was pretty boring, really."

"Ok, ok," his mom offered, "I'll play along. But just this once –" she waved a finger at his face, "– are we clear?"

"Clear." Percy looked down, fighting a victorious smile. "And I got sorted into Gryffindor, with Harry."

This time there was no need to hide his satisfied grin from her.

She clapped loudly. He was almost tempted to tell her to keep it down, but he reasoned that Ron's snores were probably loud enough to cover the sounds of a small herd of rhinos stampeding across the Common Room, let alone his mom's enthusiastic celebration.

"That's great news, Percy! _The House of the brave of heart_ ," she recited with the wistful expression of someone who had heard those same words told to her about a thousand times, "Lily was a Gryffindor too. I'm glad you and Harry will be together."

"Me too," Percy admitted, "I didn't want to have to make friends from scratch."

His mom gave him a disappointed look, but Percy refused to feel guilty.

"Honey, I want you and Harry to get along, you know that, but you can't rely on him for everything," she said softly, "you need to make other friends, to…branch out a bit. I don't want you to isolate yourself."

Percy rolled his eyes. "I don't _isolate_ myself," he mumbled defiantly.

One of his mom's eyebrow rose incredulously. "You've got to admit you are a bit of a loner. That's not a bad thing, Percy," she hurried to add when he made to retort, embarrassed and kind of offended, "just promise me you'll try to meet new people, yeah?"

Percy glared stubbornly at the floor. Ok, maybe he was a bit of a loner; maybe he liked to avoid people occasionally, but it wasn't like it was entirely his fault. Other kids and even adults had ignored or actively steered clear of him all his life until he had grown used to being on his own. He understood it now: Annabeth had explained to him that mortals often sensed something different about them, even if only on a subconscious level, and it scared them.

That summer, at Camp, he had found all the companionship he needed and he honestly didn't understand why he should want anything more.

Still, he very much doubted his mom was going to accept that as an answer.

"I'll try," he muttered unconvincingly.

"Percy," she pressed.

"I promise," he grumbled, "I'll do my best." _Unless they are all assholes like Malfoy._ He wasn't going to fake fondness for that kind of people.

"Thank you."

She smiled and Percy thought he saw a sliver of relief in her eyes.

Suddenly he felt guilty. Here he was, trying to wiggle his way out of having to make friends, while his mom was simply worried that he wasn't going to fit in, just as it had happened in every school he had ever attended.

He grinned bravely, wishing to show her that he meant to keep his promise and at the same time swearing to himself that he would _really_ do his best to make her proud, even if it meant going against his very instincts.

"So…wanna know about my new classmates?"

They talked for over an hour, about Harry's friends – and hopefully his future friends, too – and about the story his mom was writing and whether Percy deserved to have a character named after him ("If you behave", she promised when he attempted to pout his way to victory); he also told her of all his impressions of Hogwarts and she listened carefully and attentively, even though she had probably heard all of it or a similar rendition of it from her sister years ago; they also talked about Sirius Black and the threat he posed to Harry and the school in general.

"I think Dumbledore is scared that he'll manage to get in somehow, that's why he accepted to have the Dememormos around."

"Dementors, Percy," she corrected unfocusedly, "You are probably right. I just wish I could remember where I heard his name before…" she tugged at a lock of hair.

"I'm sure you will," Percy said, "It's probably nothing."

But he wasn't certain about it and, though she nodded, he could tell that his mom thought the same.

"I almost forgot," his mom said, sounding noticeably more cheerful, "I got an owl."

"What? _Mo-om_!" Percy whined childishly, "Why? Those animals _hate_ me. Harry has one and she tried to take my eyes out, I swear!"

His mom laughed. "Don't be so dramatic," she ignored his mumbled 'am not', "We needed one to communicate, Percy. You'll like him."

Unlikely, he thought. "We can communicate by IM, _exactly like we are doing right now_."

She actually rolled her eyes. "But your cousin and classmates can't know that," she pointed out, "Theseus will be our cover."

"Well, yeah, but…" he floundered. His mom gave him her patented 'I'm a mother and I know better' stare, raised eyebrow and smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, until he had to concede defeat, unable to find a flaw in her logic. "Fine," he pouted, "but I don't have to like it."

"Of course not, dear." She winked. "Just think that I'll be able to send you sweets with him. It should make you feel better."

Percy immediately perked up at the thought of all his favourite blue sweets. "Yeah, that – wait, did you really call him _Theseus_?" he gaped, unable to wrap his mind around the simple truth. "Really?"

His mom cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong with it? I thought it was a nice way to honour one of your brothers."

"Yeah. A son of _Poseidon_ ," he stressed, willing her to understand what he was getting at, "Don't you think naming an owl of all things after a kid of Poseidon could be considered… _offensive_?"

Her mouth fell open. "Oh. I didn't think of that." She shrugged. "Your father doesn't need to know, does he?"

His dad wasn't the God he was worried about to be honest, but now that he thought about it, there was no reason for Athena to investigate his family life.

He still thought it was a terribly silly name for an owl and Theseus had been kind of an asshole from what he remembered.

Roughly half an hour later, his mom's eyes started to droop and they bid goodbye. Percy, too, was starting to feel more than a bit tired again and also kind of guilty for having kept her up so late.

He promised to call her again as soon as possible and then swiped a hand through the rainbow, cutting off the connection.

He stumbled to his feet, exhaustion crashing down on him all at once and quite unexpectedly. He tripped back into the bedroom, wasting only a moment to check that his dorm-mates were still fast asleep, and he threw himself on his bed. He rolled around for a moment, getting tangled into the sheets, before letting sleep claim him.

His dreams beckoned.

He was back in the Fields of Punishments, looking down into the endless pit that had tried to swallow him whole only months before.

The same harsh, grating voice, like nails on a chalkboard, that had hunted him during his quest echoed from the deep recesses of the earth. This time, though, Percy didn't mistake it for Hades'.

 _You've failed again. Should I start thinking your father was right about your incompetence, after all?_

For a moment, Percy thought Kronos was talking to him and something cold and heavy settled on his stomach. Did his father –?

But then another, younger voice, trembling with barely suppressed rage and shame, sounded to his right and he felt horribly ashamed of himself. Was he honestly so dependent on his father's approval that any mention of incompetence made him doubt himself?

"My lord, this is just a minor inconvenience."

It was Luke, kneeling in the dirt by the chasm, the grey spirits of the dead tugging at his clothes as they had done Percy's in one of his first dreams of Tartarus.

For some reason, it surprised Percy to see how little he had changed since that last day in Camp Half-Blood. His hair was slightly longer and kind of unkempt, but still the same dirty blonde, though it looked almost white in the dim lighting of the cave. The scar that marred the left side of his face seemed somehow more pronounced than before: it turned his otherwise mischievous expression downright nasty. He had discarded the orange Camp shirt in favour of a black hoodie.

A part of Percy had irrationally expected the proof of his betrayal to be etched all over his skin.

Luke went on, "We'll find a way to –"

 _No._

The sharp order froze Luke.

Cold air wafted the penetrating scent of sulphur and decay to Percy's nose and he gagged. The distressed spirits flew back from the pit and from Luke, wailing loudly. The half-blood himself visibly chocked on his own breath.

 _I have waited long enough. You know what to do._

Luke's normally tanned skin assumed a deadly pallor and his eyes bulged. He looked like an animal ready to bolt. "My lord, there is no need –"

 _I will be the one to say what is needed and what is not. Do you doubt me perhaps, Luke?_

"Of course not," Luke was quick to reassure.

Despite his firm voice, Percy couldn't help but notice that his eyes never rested on the chasm, instead flitting from a corner of the cave to another as if searching for a way out of the situation.

 _Well_ , the vindictive part of Percy sneered, _he should've thought of that before betraying his friends._

 _Good,_ Kronos rumbled, sounding satisfied, _Do as I say and you shall have what you desire, half-blood. Now leave and don't come back until it is done._

Luke flinched and Percy glimpsed a glimmer of rebellion in his eyes, as if the old Luke, the one Annabeth had told him about, was peering out from behind the shadows of this new Luke.

Percy had almost convinced himself the older demigod would disobey Kronos when Luke got to his feet, quite obviously steeling himself for what was to come.

"As you wish, my lord."

Percy watched him go with a heavy heart, wondering what Kronos wanted him to do and just how dangerous it would be for their fellow demigods.

He took a step in the same direction, trying to force the dream to let him go, but the cave was buried under the weight of a powerful energy that seemed to be hindering his every attempt.

 _Did you find the conversation enlightening, little hero?_

His blood turned to ice.

 _Surprised I know you are here? I must say, your ability to travel through dreams is…fascinating. Your father must be proud. Or he would be, if he didn't consider you a mistake._

Percy refused to let Kronos get to him. He knew how the Titan controlled people by manipulating their needs and their deepest emotions. It was how he had turned Luke against the Gods and how he had convinced Ares to hide Zeus' Bolt and Hades' Helm of Darkness.

 _Don't let them control you, boy. Together we could destroy the Gods. You could be great._

He lost his battle with himself right then. "We have different definitions of 'great'," he spat.

He really hoped his voice had been firmer than it sounded.

Kronos laughed. _You have much to learn. You'll come to me sooner or later, little hero, you'll see._

His voice grew fainter with each word, just as the light in the cave grew brighter. Percy could feel consciousness coming back.

 _The Gods do not deserve your loyalty._

/

/

When Harry woke up the next morning, Dean's bed was empty and the shower was running. Ron was still snoring like there was no tomorrow and Neville had just rolled out of bed, hair stuck up in every directions and eyes still blurry with sleep.

"Your cousin is mental, mate," Seamus grumbled, voice smothered by the heavy covers.

Harry twisted around to look at him. He was buried under his sheets: his ruffled hair and a hand hanging limply over the edge of the bed were the only visible parts of his body.

"He was up at the crack of dawn, doing Merlin knows what in the bathroom. Woke me up too."

Harry turned to face his cousin. He was still sleeping deeply, his sheets tangled around his legs and his pillow half over his head. There was a small line of drool running down the left side of his open mouth.

Harry snickered.

"Maybe he was feeling homesick," he offered.

Seamus snorted. "Can't he be homesick without waking me up?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but Neville jumped to his cousin's defence before he could.

"I bet it's not easy for him. He is really far from home, in a completely new school. He doesn't know anyone outside of Harry."

Seamus mumbled something else, but Neville's words seemed to have placated him.

Harry smiled at the chubby boy, silently thanking him for his support.

Dean exited the bathroom in a billowy cloud of steam. His curly hair was still wet, but he was already dressed in muggle clothing. He raised his eyes to the sky when he saw that his best friend was still sleeping.

"Get up, idiot." He threw his drenched towel at Seamus with more force than Harry thought was necessary. The other boy groaned at the impact, but otherwise didn't give any sign that he had heard Dean calling him. "We told Parvati and Lavender we'd have breakfast together at nine."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "On a weekend?"

"That's what I said," Seamus grumbled, freeing himself from the cover's hold. He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

As Seamus took his shower, Harry was left with the ungrateful task of waking up his own best friend. It was nice having a weekend to get used to being back in Hogwarts before the beginning of lessons, but that did not mean he could let Ron sleep until lunch. For one, Hermione would never let him hear the end of it.

By the time he managed to pull Ron out from under his cover – something that required quite a bit of strength as he had to physically push him off the bed – Seamus and Dean had already left and Neville was putting on his shoes, telling him that he planned on visiting the Greenhouses.

"Professor Sprout sent me a letter the other day. She wants to show me the _Aconitum_ she is growing. Wolfsbane, you know."

Harry did not, in fact, know, not having much of an interest in Herbology and even less in Potions, but he nodded as if he thought the information to be as exciting as Neville obviously did.

As the other boy left, Ron picked himself up from the floor where he had been laying for the past few minutes, cursing Harry under his breath.

"You better wake Percy, mate," he said once he was awake enough to string two words together, "Hermione will be here to scream at us in a few minutes. Just don't kill him, though."

He disappeared into the bathroom, still looking upset, and Harry realized with a pang that he would be, once again, the last one to take a shower. He thought it was tremendously unfair.

Percy had switched position since the last time Harry had glanced his way and he was now laying on his back, arms spread wide. His hair was a dark halo against the white backdrop of the pillow. There was a light frown on his face, but he looked otherwise peaceful. Harry felt almost guilty about waking him up, especially if what Seamus had said was true.

With a sigh, he shook him, lightly at first and then with more force when he didn't react. "Percy," he called.

The boy mumbled something and swatted his hand away like an annoying fly. Harry resisted the urge to face-palm: his cousin was apparently another Ron. Well, Harry didn't care how many points Gryffindor would lose over it, he was _not_ going to waste every single one of his mornings trying to wake them up in time for their lessons.

He grabbed his sheets and threw them on the floor; he did the same with the pillow.

Percy curled into himself with a groan, cracking an eye open. "What d'you want?"

"You need to get up, Perce."

His cousin borrowed deeper against the mattress. "La'er."

"No, _now_."

No answer. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses. He was going to murder them both before the year was over.

He seized a fistful of Percy's pyjamas top and shook him violently.

"Ow!" Percy bounced half-way off the bed. "Geez, man. What's wrong with you?! I was sleeping!"

Harry jumped back to avoid his kicking legs. "I saw that. It's time for breakfast and I don't want to be late. So, _get up_!"

Percy glared murderously. Though he would never admit it, Harry thought it was kind of scary.

"Fuck you, Harry."

He shrugged impenitently, a wicked grin on his face. "Don't let the professors hear you talk like that."

Half an hour later, they climbed down the stairs to the Common Room just in time to stop Hermione from stamping to their dormitory full of righteous fury to kick them out of their beds.

"I woke up over an hour ago," she complained, "what were you three doing?"

"These two weren't doing much of anything," Harry said wryly, " _I_ was trying to get them out of bed."

Percy punched him on the shoulder. "I thought you were trying to off me."

"You'll get used to it, mate," added Ron, patting his rumbling stomach, "Harry can be kind of violent. Can we hurry? I'm hungry."

Hermione sniffled. "You wouldn't be hungry if you had gotten up earlier, Ronald." She pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait, ignoring Ron as he badly imitated her behind her back, "Percy, you should take advantage of this weekend to study and make sure you are caught up. I can help you."

Percy, who had been staring at the painting of a sinking ship with an empty expression, turned to gawp at her in horror. "Study?" he said the word as if he had never heard it before, "What?"

"Of course, you're just like them." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry glowered indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He grabbed Percy's arm, motioning him to jump over the trick step at the bottom of the stairs.

"You know what it means."

The Great Hall was already packed when they entered it. It seemed as if every student wanted to take advantage of the weekend to do something that was _not_ sleeping in. Harry just knew they were all going to regret it come Monday morning.

They found seats near the end of the Gryffindor table, as far away from the twins and their early morning shenanigans as possible.

Hermione let Percy take a bite of his toast, lulling him into a false sense of security, and then she pounced. Harry had seen her do it more times than he cared to remember.

"How far are you with the Transfiguration curriculum?"

Percy froze mid-chew. "Er, what?" Hermione stared at him expectantly and more than a bit impatiently. "Oh, er, second year. Half-way through. Yeah."

Hermione's expression was disbelieving. She pulled a heavy tome out of her bag – why she had it with her, Harry didn't have the faintest – and slammed it on the table. The pumpkin juice sloshed out of their goblets, but she paid it no mind. "Have you already studied Animate to Inanimate Transfiguration? What do you know about it?"

Percy gaped, unfinished toast still dangling from his hand. "I…it's…something that…" he turned to him for support, sea green eyes wide and begging. Feeling like a stinking coward, Harry hid behind his goblet. "I, well…" he quite visibly gathered his courage before saying firmly, "I can transfigure a bird into a goblet."

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line, so reminiscent of McGonagall that Harry was mildly impressed. "Can you? And what about the theory?"

Percy's eyes narrowed. He seemed more annoyed than surprised by Hermione's improvised interrogation, not to mention pretty offended by her implication that he was lying. "Yeah, I can. I don't need the theory. Transfiguration is _easy_ , not like Charms or –" he clamped his mouth shut, realizing at once his mistake.

Hermione's eyes brightened. "You need help with Charms, then?"

Ron stopped stuffing his face with porridge long enough to say, "Give up, Perce. She's not going to let it go."

"Don't be stupid, Ron," the girl scolded, "Percy is going to need our help if he doesn't want to fail." Harry barely had time to wonder about her use of the word 'our' that she went on, "Harry, you should take care of DADA." She turned to Percy, "That's Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry is the best in our year."

Harry blushed. "Well, I –", he began to say just as a furious looking Percy interjected, "I know what DADA is!"

Both their voices were silenced by Ron's loud exclamation, "What about me? I can teach him too."

Hermione faltered. "Oh, of course, Ron. I…will think of something." She played with the leather cover of her book, her eyes darting Harry's way.

He smirked and ignored her mute request for help.

Fortunately for her, Percy chose that moment to thump his head against the table. "I – don't – need – help – dammit!" he emphasized each word with a new smack.

"You are going to hurt yourself," Hermione pointed out uncaringly, already immersed in her book and carefully avoiding Ron's eyes, "I believe we should start with Charms, then, since you find it harder."

Percy glared at her viciously.

Harry patted him on the back sympathetically. "If it makes you feel better, we'll be subjected to one of her special review too."

"Well, they say a trouble shared is a trouble halved, right?" Percy asked dubiously.

"Whatever!" Ron waved with his fork, sending bits of scrambled egg flying. Two fifth year girls sitting close to them moved back with disgusted shrieks to avoid the airborne food. "Your review will have to wait, Hermione. We have to visit Hagrid first."

Harry perked up. "Ron's right. We need to congratulate him."

"Hagrid is the new professor, right? The really big one?" Percy inquired.

"Yeah." Hermione closed her book. "We can go now then, if you have finished with your breakfast."

They had, though Percy hadn't eaten much.

They walked out of the Great Hall and crossed the Entrance Hall, putting on their coats. They were so far up north that winter was already in the air despite it being only the beginning of September.

As they strolled down the grounds, morning dew soaking the bottom of their shoes, they pointed out all the major landmarks to Percy.

"Those are the Greenhouses. It's where we have Herbology. This year we'll be allowed into number three. They say it's where Sprout keeps some of the more dangerous plants, like Snargaluffs and –"

"That over there is the Quidditch Pitch. I'm the Seeker for Gryffindor and the twins are the Beaters. You can come see us practice if you want…"

"…there is a Giant Squid living in the Lake. One of my brothers, Charlie, once swam in to see it. His friends had to take him to the Infirmary for hypothermia…"

"That's the Whomping Willow. It's rather… _violent_ …"

"Yeah, it tends to _beat_ people who get too close to it."

"Or who fly into it with a _car_."

Percy choked on his laughter. "What? Who _flies_ a car into a tree? How do you even fly a _car_?"

"Magic," said Harry simply, just as Hermione muttered an exasperated, "Who do you think?"

"Man, you guys are nuts."

"You don't know the half of it. Oh, that's the Forbidden Forest. You saw it yesterday. We aren't allowed to go into it, obviously, but we have been a few times."

"And I, personally, don't wish to relive the experience, thank you very much."

"Why? It looks cool."

"We'll tell you later. We are here."

Hagrid's hut was just as Harry remembered: a small wooden cabin standing on the edge of the forest, its chimney puffing out black curls of smoke. Hagrid's man-sized pumpkins were thriving in his personal vegetable garden. Harry knew come Hallowe'en they would be big enough to fit a first-year student inside.

Hermione's knock was answered by Fang's barking, followed shortly after by Hagrid's booming voice. "Comin'! Back, Fang, back!"

The door opened a sliver and Hagrid's beard-covered face appeared. He grinned brightly when he saw them, his beetle eyes shining.

"I was wonderin' when you be visitin' me! Come in, come in!"

They were assaulted by Fang as soon as they took a step into the one-room house. Hagrid grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away, but not before he managed to bathe Ron in his slobber. Percy smothered a laugh with his hand and Ron shoved him in retaliation.

"Ah, yeh've brought yer new cousin, Harry! Good, good!"

He lifted a dead pheasant from the back of one of his over-sized chairs and threw it on the table. Harry heard Hermione choke back a whimper of revulsion.

"Sit down, kids. I'll prepare tea. Here," he pushed a plate of his rock cookies in the middle of the table, "eat somethin'."

There was a mad dash towards the table, as no one wanted to sit on the chair from which the pheasant had been hanging. In the end, Hermione, who had been the closest to the door, got stuck with it and none of them was gentlemanly enough to surrender his chair to her. She sat on the edge of it, seeming very prim if not for the scowl that marred her expression.

"How are yeh, Harry? Heard what happened on the train." He shook his head, pottering with the kettle, "Ruddy Dementors."

Harry blushed. Was it possible that everyone already knew about it? "It was nothing, Hagrid, really." He slapped Percy's hand away from the cookies while Hagrid faced the other way. "How was your summer?" he asked loudly, covering his cousin's surprised, 'Ouch!'.

"Same ol'. It's bin borin' without yeh little rascals around." His chair creaked ominously when he sat down. "And then Dumbledore offered me ter teach. I couldn' believe it when he came down to me hut after Kettleburn retired." He wiped a tear on his moleskin overcoat. "Great man, Dumbledore."

Hermione squeezed his forearm, still leaning as far away from the back of her chair as she possibly could without falling from it. "We are so happy for you, Hagrid."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "No one deserves it more than you."

Even as he said that, Harry saw he looked apprehensive: neither could forget what kind of creatures Hagrid favoured.

The man sniffled loudly and Fang laid his head on his lap, whining softly. "It's all thanks ter 'em, yeh know?" he told Percy, who appeared startled to be included in the conversation, "They cleared me name, they did. If not fer 'em, I –"

He was overcome by emotions. Thankfully, the kettle started hissing loudly right at that moment and Hagrid got up to tend to it, which gave him the opportunity to get himself under control.

"I already hav' ev'rythin' planned for yer lessons," he said while pouring tea in their chipped cups, "Yer goin' to love 'em!"

Hermione paled. "Oh. That's…that's good…"

"What kind of animals we'll be studying?" asked Percy, carefully sipping his beverage. He grimaced, probably taken aback by the bitter taste.

Hagrid's brightened. "It's a surprise. Yeh'll see on Monday. Yeh'll love Buckbeak and his siblings!"

Ron almost dropped his cup to the ground. "And is Buckbeak, erm, dangerous, perhaps?"

Hagrid stared at him as if the idea of one of his pets being anything but peaceful and adorable was preposterous. "Dangerous? O' course not! Bucky is a softy, jus' a bi' misunderstood, 's all."

Harry's left eye twitched. He could suddenly see Hagrid yelling, 'he jus' wants ter be friends' while a monstrous boar disembowelled them all as if it was happening right in front of him.

Hermione and Ron looked equally terrified by the prospect of a lesson with Hagrid. Percy was the only one who did not seem to perceive the danger they were in, conversing in quite a relaxed manner with the new professor, but Harry suspected it was simply because his cousin didn't know what Hagrid was capable of when it came to his precious creatures.

They left an hour later, Hagrid's promise of a 'exciting lesson' ringing in Harry's ears.

"Oh, I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking." Hermione swung her bag around nervously, hitting Ron. "Hagrid is a great friend and you guys know how much I care about him, but…"

"He's going to get us killed," Ron finished for her, rubbing his side, "Be careful with that thing, will you?"

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" asked Percy naively, "He seems to know what he is doing."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each-other. "Well, he does," he admitted reluctantly, "it's just that…he really loves animals and sometimes he doesn't seem fully aware of just how dangerous they can be."

"Oh." Percy looked back at the cabin. Fang's lively barking could be heard even half-way to the castle. "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to teach anything too unsafe. Right?"

"I hope not," said Hermione, "though Dumbledore can be…" she hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder, "but it's useless worrying about it now. Let's go to the library to revise. We wasted enough time."

Ron groaned loudly and Percy looked about to fling himself into the lake, but they all followed her anyway.

As the doors were about to close behind them, Harry felt a peculiar tingling in the back of his neck. He glanced in the direction of the Forest. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, but nothing, animal or human, seemed to be moving in their shadows. He waited, tense and nervous, for something to happen, sure beyond a doubt that someone had been studying their progress across the grounds. And then, exactly at the edge of the Forest, there appeared –

"Harry?"

He whipped around.

Percy had stopped with one foot on the first step of the marble stairs. He was frowning.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just –" Harry looked over his cousin's shoulders. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"They went up." He shrugged. "They were too busy bickering to notice you had stopped. What did you see?"

Harry threw one last look at the Forest. He was sure a pair of bright eyes had been peering at him, but now nothing seemed to be there and he wondered if perhaps he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

"Just thought I saw something moving."

But Percy wasn't listening any longer. His eyebrows drew together as he stared at the trees. Harry had the unsettling sensation that he could see far more than he himself had been able to.

He pushed the door closed with force. The loud thud reverberated through the Entrance Hall and Percy jumped about a foot in the air.

"Let's go before Hermione has a fit."

Percy gawked at him for a long moment, his mind seemingly lost on another planet, and then he shook himself. "Yeah, sure."

They hurried up the stairs, taking two at a time.

Hermione's revision took up the whole afternoon. Though he tried to concentrate on his Charms book and not think about the eyes in the Forest, Harry had to restrain himself from going back to investigate, his curiosity aroused. He often caught himself wondering if Percy felt the same.

 _Stop thinking about it,_ he firmly told himself a few hours later, on his way to dinner, _It was probably just an animal, anyway._

/

/

 **AN:** I swear, I thought this chapter would never end.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** I'm back! Terribly late, as usual. You can blame this chapter: there was one canon scene I just had to keep and reinterpreting it was far from easy. I'm still unsure how I feel about it. It could be better, but it could also be a lot worse, I guess. You guys let me know what you think if you have the time (and the will). You know I always appreciate your reviews.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, even if it's a bit…filler-ish.

 **Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far!**

 **Warning:** a bit of language.

 **Disclaimer:** still poor; still not a published writer. Which means these works are not mine, but belong to Queen JK Rowling and King Rick Riordan. 

/

 **Chapter nine: In which troubles are shared, but not halved**

Malfoy was back to his usual insufferable self on Monday morning, after a relatively peaceful weekend. He was standing on the bench by the Slytherin table, entertaining a boisterous crowd of his Housemates with an over-the-top interpretation of Harry fainting.

"Ignore him," Hermione advised, her face hidden behind a heavy Transfiguration tome, "he's bound to grow tired of it sooner or later."

It was easy for her to say, thought Harry as malicious laughter reached his ears for the second time in as many minutes. She didn't have to put up with the jerk humiliating her right in front of her own eyes.

He speared a fried tomato viciously, feeling that at least something else had to suffer as much as he did.

Percy snorted in his juice. "Are they even laughing for real or just to keep him happy?"

"His ego would certainly require it," remarked Hermione.

"Maybe he got his father to pay for that, too," muttered Harry. The girl hummed, but Percy glanced questioningly at him, prompting him to elaborate, "that's how he got his spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team last year: his dad brought them all brand new brooms."

"Figures he'd be a spoiled rich kid," said Percy, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Potter! POTTER!"

The loud shout jolted Ron awake from his early morning nap. He looked up, bleary-eyed and with a piece of toast stuck to his hair. "Wha?"

Malfoy, still standing on the bench so that the whole school could see him, was now gesturing in his direction like a maniac.

"Scared of the Big Bad Dementors, Potter? I wouldn't leave the castle if I were you!"

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in sharply. It wasn't worth it, he told himself as firmly as he could, trying to ignore as yet another bout of laughter echoed across the Great Hall. With his luck, Snape would happen upon the scene just as he was giving Malfoy the lesson he so clearly deserved – entirely by chance, _of course_ – and take points from Gryffindor.

"What an idiot," croaked Ron, glaring a hole in Malfoy's head.

"Shouldn't the teachers be doing something?" wondered Percy, frowning darkly, "or do we have to shut him up on our own? I can do it. I don't mind punching bullies."

Harry snickered. Yeah, he wouldn't mind punching the obnoxious prat either.

"Better not to, unless you want to end up in detention on the first day of school," warned Hermione.

Despite her outwardly unconcerned demeanour, her eyes had been staring at the same line for a few minutes and thin wrinkles had appeared between her brows.

"Wouldn't be the first time," commented Percy uncaringly.

Hermione slammed her book shut with a loud thud. "Don't be stupid," she hissed, her eyes moving from one to the other and somehow managing to pin all three of them to the spot, "that's exactly what Malfoy wants, for you to do something idiotic and for Gryffindor to lose points before the year is even started!" she forcefully shoved the tome back in her bag, almost ripping the seam. "Trust me, I'd curse him myself otherwise!"

Before Harry could think of something to say to that, Fred dropped on the seat to Hermione's right. "It's not healthy keeping all that violence bottled inside, Hermione. Go, follow your innermost desires…"

George appeared behind Percy, leaning over him with his hands on his shoulders to look Hermione in the eyes. "…curse the little git as much as your heart wants…"

"Or punch him, whichever you prefer."

"You'll feel better, trust us."

"It's not like he'd be able to stop you anyway. He almost peed himself the other night when the Dementors came into the train." Fred winked at him. "The little coward."

Ron laughed uproariously and even Harry felt like cracking a smile.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "I don't accept advice from the two of you."

"Your cruelty kills me," George deadpanned.

Percy shrugged his hands off his shoulders and then shoved him away half-heartedly. "You're in my personal space, man. Find a seat."

"I thought we had something special, mate," he said, sitting down next to him.

Ron grinned. "You're getting turned down left and right."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" George took something out of his bag. "Third-year timetables, my young grasshoppers. McGonagall said to pass them along."

He pushed one of the roll of parchments in Harry's hands and, with a flourish, he presented the other three with their own.

"How do you even know that term? It's from an old muggle show," Hermione noted absent-mindedly, already busy studying her timetable.

Fred pointed a syrup-covered fork at her. "There are many things we know."

Percy groaned under his breath and nudged Harry with an elbow. "What does this say? Arithmancy, right?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

For a baffling moment, Harry thought his cousin had somehow forgotten how to read and then he remembered about his dyslexia. He didn't comment on it out loud: he knew Hermione and the Weasleys would never make fun of Percy for it, but if his cousin wanted to keep it quiet, that was his choice.

"Yeah, which means we're starting Divination." He glanced at his own timetable for confirmation. "That guy in your year, Towler," he told the twins, "he said it's pretty cool."

Fred squashed his hopes mercilessly. "Towler is an idiot. Divination is mind-numbingly boring. You should've gone with Arithmancy like Littler Percy over here."

Percy glared at him over the edge of the parchment. Harry swore he heard him mumble something that sounded quite a lot like an insult and rhymed with 'whole'.

"Look on the bright side, mate. We'll have few more hours of sleep a week," Ron pointed out unconcernedly.

Harry would've agreed, but Hermione's scowl convinced him to reconsider, at least for the time being. She had gotten used to them sleeping in History of Magic, she'd get used to them sleeping in Divination, too.

"That looks a bit crowded, doesn't it?" commented Fred, reading over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione pulled the timetable to her chest. "I do believe that's none of your business," she said primly.

"Just curious," he said with a one-shoulder shrug.

"Yeah," George nodded along, "Ronnikins here told us you went off the deep end, signing up for every elective or something silly like that."

Hermione's glare was a thing of beauty in the sheer violence it promised and Ron seemed to shrink into himself.

"Busted," snickered Percy.

"Don't worry, Hermione." Fred patted her on the back. "You'll realize soon enough that _our_ approach is the best."

Hermione moved out of his reach. "Not doing anything constructive or worthwhile with your schooling, you mean."

Percy's expression turned mockingly contemplative. "Sounds like a pretty good deal to me."

"That's it, my good man," George forced out around a mouthful of pancakes.

Hermione's face twisted in disgust. "You're terrible, all of you." She turned to him beseechingly. "Harry…"

He raised his hands. "Oh no, leave me out of this."

"A real Gryffindor," snorted Percy, his mouth drawn up in a lopsided smile.

The bell that signalled the start of the first lesson of the day chimed a few minutes later, prompting a groan out of Ron.

"We better go," he said dejectedly, "Divination is all the way up to the North Tower. It'll take us at least ten minutes to get there."

Harry grabbed his heavy bag from the floor, turning to Percy. "Will you find the Arithmancy classroom? You could go with Seamus."

Percy kept playing with his food, looking wholly unconcerned. "Sure, man. Don't wor–"

"I'll go with him," Hermione interrupted. Though the bag she had swung over her shoulder was bulging with books and straining under their weight, she had two more under her arm. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how exactly she planned to attend all her lessons. "I already know where it is."

Ron frowned. "You'll never get to the North Tower on time, Hermione. You should –"

"What I should do is none of your business, Ronald," she said, her nose up in the air, "I've got everything under control. Let's go, Percy."

She marched away from them imperiously. Percy threw him an apologetic glance and then hurried to follow her out of the Hall.

"Blimey," Ron whispered, looking bewildered, "what's gotten into her?"

Damned if he knew.

/

/

Percy had to elbow his way past the throng of students to keep up with Hermione as she sprinted through the halls, not in the least hindered by her bulky bag.

"You know," he panted as he reached her side, a bit perplexed by his lack of stamina, "you can't show me the way if you don't wait for me."

Hermione didn't spare him a glance, but she did slow down. "We can't be late to our first lesson! I want to get good seats."

Percy's eyes rolled so far up his head he swore he saw his own brain cells. Of course Hermione would be obsessed with silly things like that. He wondered if this was what going to school with children of Athena was like. He could imagine Annabeth stalking through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, her intense expression and serious grey eyes keeping the rest of the student body at arm's length. She would be right at home with someone like Hermione.

"So," he began after a bit of an awkward silence that didn't seem to bother Hermione in the slightest, "where is the classroom?"

"Seventh floor," she answered curtly, "don't worry, give it a few weeks and you'll be able to navigate the school on your own."

Percy very much doubted that. An infallible sense of direction was _not_ one of the powers he had gotten from Poseidon, unfortunately. New York was the only place where he could never lose his way, and that was because he had lived there all his life. Hogwarts, with its moving staircases and fake doors, could easily turn into a veritable trap for him and if that didn't make him anxious and claustrophobic, nothing else ever would.

The set of stairs they were climbing shifted under their feet, meeting a new landing just as they reached the top. Percy wondered if Harry and Ron had already found the Divination classroom or if they were having trouble getting to the North Tower.

He glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. How exactly did she plan to attend two different lessons at the same time? Maybe wizards could be in two places at once. A ridiculous idea, of course, but it would be pretty useful.

The crowd thinned as they neared their destination. When they stopped in front of the classroom's door, only about twenty students were left. Seamus was one of them and he was talking to a blonde girl Percy hadn't been introduced to, but that he recognized from Hermione's study group, a nightmare in and of itself.

Seamus waved when he saw them. "The door's still locked," he pointed out unnecessarily.

Percy threw a distracted glance at his watch. Still five minutes before class was set to start. He snorted – and Hermione worried they wouldn't find acceptable seats.

"Is it just us?"

Seamus shrugged. "Think so. Arithmancy isn't exactly popular, ya know? Most people prefer easier subjects, like Divination or Muggle Studies."

The blonde girl nodded fervently, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. "Fay said the same. Maybe I should've listened to her." She shook her head. "Oh, I don't think we have been introduced. Hannah Abbott, Hufflepuff."

"Oh, er, Percy Jackson. Nice to meet you." Should he have tagged a 'Gryffindor' to that? He had noticed a lot of students specified their House when they introduced themselves, the way demigods always added their godly parent's name to their own, but he thought it was a bit silly. Unlike your godly parent, your House didn't really say much about you.

"Did you find the classroom on your own?" asked Seamus, sounding mildly impressed, "It took me until winter break in my first year to learn my way around the castle."

Percy frowned. "What? No, I –" he turned, intending to point out Hermione, thinking it was a bit weird the girl had been so silent the whole time, but she wasn't there anymore.

Well, that was strange.

He whirled around, checking every corner of the corridor. He even got on his tiptoes to look over the heads of the taller students. Hermione was nowhere to be found.

"Percy?" called Seamus, "You okay, mate?"

Percy rocked back on the balls of his feet. "Sure. Hey, did you see where–?"

The classroom's door opened with a loud bang and the chattering students fell quiet.

A tall, dark-haired woman, perhaps a few years younger than McGonagall, scrutinized them imperturbably from the threshold.

"Well," she began brusquely, "there is more of you than I'm used to. Come on in, then. There is no time to waste."

She disappeared back into her classroom, leaving her baffled students staring after her. Percy and Seamus exchanged a bewildered look and Percy shrugged. She wasn't one for niceties, that much was obvious. Then again, he somehow doubted most of the Professors in this school were.

He followed his fellow students marching reluctantly into the classroom, throwing one last look at the now empty corridor. Hermione still hadn't reappeared. Was it possible she had decided to go looking for a bathroom only a few minutes before the lesson started? She didn't seem the type.

The classroom was small and cramped. A handful of mismatched desks and stools, covered with cushions of outrageous colours, was pushed against the walls, crowding the bigger desk and high-backed chair that obviously belonged to their teacher. Dust floated in the air, riding the few beams of light that peeked through the heavy purple curtains hanging in front of the windows. Percy sneezed as he breathed in the suffocating scent of mould and a few other students echoed him.

"Don't mind the mess," the professor said. She waved her wand lazily and the curtains slid back, inundating the classroom with sunlight.

By his side, Seamus groaned and covered his eyes.

"I only got back to Hogwarts yesterday," she went on, "didn't have time to fix the classroom."

The dust swirled up from the floor and desks, forming tiny hurricanes that dissolved into nothingness.

"Of course," the professor muttered, a last twirl of her wand re-arranging the stools, "Mr Filch could've actually done his job. Very well. Sit down, kids; the sooner we start, the sooner you'll be able to go back to your little friends and complain about how difficult Arithmancy is."

Percy's eyebrows climbed up. He had heard more encouraging things from his former teachers at Yancy and that was saying something.

He hurried to take a seat next to Seamus and the Hufflepuff girl, and he set his bag down on the stool to his right to keep it free for Hermione. She'd have to make do with middle row instead of the first row seat she no doubt would've preferred.

"As you probably already know," the professor began once they had settled down, "I'm Professor Septima Vector. I teach Arithmancy and Advanced Arithmancy Studies. Most of you, I'm sad to say, won't ever have the opportunity to discover the astounding secrets of the latter, as you'll fail this class."

A low snort came from his right. He turned around, surprised, and found Hermione sitting on the stool he had saved for her.

"As if," she whispered, pushing something golden under her crisp white shirt, "I've already read the entire first volume of Numerology and Grammatica _and_ over half of next year's material. It's not as difficult as she's implying."

Percy was too dumbfounded by her seemingly miraculous appearance to feel discouraged by the prospect of having to read such a big book just to keep up with his far more diligent classmate. "Where did you come from?"

Hermione shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "I forgot something."

"What –?"

Vector's suddenly raised voice truncated his question, forcing him to settle for Hermione's non-answer.

"First thing first, we'll talk about what Arithmancy is. Pay attention, please, and no talking. I'm not going to repeat myself." She sat behind her desk, back ramrod straight and head held high. Her hazel eyes seemed to peer into their minds. "Can someone tell me where Arithmancy first originated?"

To no one's surprise, not even Percy's who had known her for less than a week, Hermione's hand shot in the air.

She didn't wait for Vector to call on her. "The use of Arithmancy can be traced back all the way to Ancient Greece, where it was used mostly before important battles."

Percy closed his eyes, exasperated. Everywhere he turned, there Ancient Greece was. He wasn't sure whether he loved or hated it. Maybe a bit of both.

"Very true, Miss…?"

"Granger, Professor."

"Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, as your classmate rightly pointed out, Arithmancy was used in Ancient Greece to divine the outcome of important battles," Vector picked up the explanation, "but not only that. The Greeks believed that knowing how a battle would end would also enable them to control it. Whether that is true or not, Arithmancy thrived through the centuries as a method to divine the future and it survives even to this day.

"But make no mistake: Arithmancy can't be compared to others, far less reliable, divining techniques. We won't read palms or stare into glass balls in this class. Arithmancy is a science, no different from Transfiguration or Potion. It is a measurable, empirical method of divining the future and underestimating its difficulty or its importance will get you nowhere.

"Now, practiced Arithmancers use it in conjunction with other forms of magic, be they charms, spells or potions. One day, hopefully not too far into the future, you'll be able to do the same, but only if you truly apply yourselves to your studies. For the time being, though, we'll concentrate on the most basic form of Arithmancy. Does anyone know roughly how it works?"

Hermione's hand was up before Vector had even finished talking.

Percy didn't listen to her answer. He had never heard anyone at Camp mention Arithmancy, but if it was as widespread in Ancient Greece as Vector had said, then Chiron at the very least had to know about it.

Demigods in general didn't have much reason to worry about divination. They had the Oracle for that and she – it – whatever – was far more trustworthy than any mortal means of predicting the future, seeing as Apollo and occasionally even the Fates themselves communicated through 'her'. Every single one of her prophecies came to pass, even if not always in the manner one would expect.

What he found interesting was the part about _controlling_ the outcome of certain events, specifically battles.

Annabeth would tell him those were just the ravings of foolish fortune-tellers pumped up for battle and that the only way to ensure victory was to be smarter, wiser and more prepared than the enemy, but he still found the notion intriguing.

The way things were shaping up in the Greek world, they'd need all the advantages they could get.

Hermione opened her book and he imitated her. His mind could make out the numbers, but the letters swam in front of his eyes, as usual. He squinted, trying to make sense of the various charts. It was useless. He'd need to remember to use that helpful trick his father had given him when he had stopped by their apartment.

He tried to concentrate on the lesson as Vector explained the correlation between numbers and letters and how Arithmancy used it to divine the future, but his brain refused to let go of what it felt were promising reflections. Perhaps there was a plan in there somewhere.

He'd talk about it with Chiron as soon as he had the chance, he decided in the end. With Annabeth, too. He owed her an Iris Message, anyway.

When the lesson ended, thirty minutes later, he left the classroom with Hermione and Seamus, a headache of epic proportions building up behind his eyes. He massaged his temples, cursing his dyslexia. He had sort of gotten used to it after almost seven years of school, but he would gladly do without the headaches.

"Boy, those sixth years yesterday at dinner were right!" Seamus complained loudly. Percy winced. "Should've signed up for something easier."

He grimaced. "Divination sounded like a waste of time and I'm not sure Runes is any easier."

"Muggle Studies, then?" the other boy offered with a shrug. "You signed up for that too, didn't you, Hermione?" he turned to face her and then frowned, "Where did she go?"

Percy twisted around, already knowing he wouldn't find her. How did she keep doing that? "No idea. Maybe she stayed behind to talk with Vector."

Seamus seemed to think that was a plausible explanation. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

Percy didn't contradict him. He had seen Hermione leave the classroom right behind them. He didn't think she had gone back inside, but he didn't want to attract attention to what she was doing, whatever that was.

Percy let Seamus lead him to the Transfiguration classroom, Hannah having bid them good-bye halfway there to head to Defence against the Dark Arts. Hermione wasn't there and neither were the rest of their classmates from Divination when they arrived, but the door was already open so they found seats while they waited. Their Ravenclaw year-mates got there not much later and so did the other Gryffindors five minutes after that. Hermione was the last one to pass through the door, only a few steps behind Ron and Harry. Percy thought they looked vaguely surprised to see her there.

"Is everything okay?" he whispered to her as she took the seat beside him.

Just as she had done in Arithmancy, she avoided his eyes. "Sure. Don't worry."

Percy suppressed the need to question her, guessing his curiosity wouldn't be appreciated. He directed his attention to Harry, instead, noticing just then that his cousin was scowling darkly at his desk, looking quite upset. "What's up with you, man?" he asked.

Hermione scoffed, but she didn't say anything.

Harry sighed. "Trelawney, the Divination teacher, you know, she kind of…predicted my death? Maybe."

Percy swallowed, feeling his heart jump in his throat. What were the possibilities that this Trelawney person was a real Seer? "Oh. And how exactly did she do that?"

Harry shrugged. "She saw something in the leaves in my mug, I guess."

"The Grim," Ron choked out in a trembling voice. He was shaking, sweat clinging to his forehead, and his freckles stood out sharply against his deathly white skin. You'd think the Divination Professor had foreseen his death, too, the way he looked. "She saw the Grim."

Percy frowned, glancing at Hermione, who usually had all the answers. The girl ignored him, though, looking as if she was dying to comment, but doing everything in her power to stay out of the conversation.

Why were the people in this school so weird?

"Ok, I give up. What's a Grim?"

Ron stared at him as if he was crazy. Yeah, no, buddy, Percy thought uncharitably, _you_ are the crazy one. "Oh, just the worst Death Omen a wizard can see, nothing much!"

Harry groaned. "Ron, please. That doesn't make me feel better." He turned to him. "I don't know much about it either, but Trelawney said that it's a giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards and that…" he trailed off, looking shaken.

"Anyone who has seen it," Ron went on for him in a barely there voice, "died within a few days."

Hermione scoffed again under her breath, muttering something about stupid wizards who lacked logic, but Percy didn't pay her any mind. That description sounded somewhat familiar, with the exception of people dying a few days after having met it: they usually were killed on sight.

"What does it look like? Apart from being giant and spectral."

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. His question had apparently startled them out of their shock.

"Er, I'm not sure," Ron admitted.

"Black fur," said Harry, "bright eyes. It looks made of shadows, if that makes any sense."

It did make sense, at least to him. He thought back on the day he had been claimed, on the black, rhino-sized dog that had come so close to ripping him to shreds. He rubbed his chest, feeling phantom claws slicing through his armour and slashing his skin open. This Grim sounded an awful lot like a Hellhound.

Ron had gone from deathly pale to sickly green in a matter of seconds. "You really saw it," he mumbled.

"Oh, please!" Hermione burst out, unable to control herself any longer, "Harry just saw a stray! England is full of them."

Ron glared at her. "A stray made of shadows? Even you have to admit that's strange!"

"It was night. Harry was obviously distressed after he had…" she glanced at her friend, " _left_ his relatives' house. He wasn't thinking clearly. No offence, Harry."

Harry passed a hand through his hair. "No, you're right. It was probably nothing."

He didn't sound convinced and Percy couldn't help but share his reservations. Unlike him and Ron, though, he didn't believe what Harry had seen that night was a Grim and much less that it would cause his cousin's death. But if Harry had seen a Hellhound, did that mean he was clear-sighted or did the Mist not work on wizards?

McGonagall's arrival put an end to any further discussion and Percy put his speculations on the back-burner for the time being. Still, that was one more thing he'd have to ask Chiron about. Maybe he should make a list.

/

After lunch, they headed to their first Care of Magical Creatures class, something Percy was especially glad about, not least because it allowed them to get out of the Castle for a while.

The weather was milder than it had been during the weekend, giving them a last taste of autumn before what Percy predicted would be a rather harsh winter. Though he preferred warmer climates, he enjoyed the feel of the sun's tepid rays on his skin after the last few days holed up in the school.

He had been getting an itch.

As they crossed the grounds leisurely, he walked beside his cousin, a few steps ahead of Ron and Hermione, mostly because he was fed up with their constant bickering. He guessed Harry felt the same, as he had been ignoring them ever since they had resumed their dead-end discussion about the Grim and whether or not Harry would actually kick the bucket before the week was over.

Ron seemed to think Hermione was too close-minded; Hermione was convinced Ron was a fool for blindly believing in silly superstitions.

Percy just wanted them to stop snapping at each other.

Harry groaned, drowning out Hermione's stentorian voice. "Malfoy. Damn it."

Malfoy's pale blond hair made it easy to pick him out from the crowd of Slytherins milling around the grounds. The two beefy boys that had threatened them before the Welcoming Feast stood at his sides as always. Percy didn't think he had ever seen one without the others.

"Ignore him. I don't think he wants to get on Hagrid's bad side, anyway."

Harry snorted. "Not really. Hagrid is not McGonagall: Malfoy will never respect him."

Percy's brow creased. "Hagrid doesn't seem the sort to let a student walk all over him. I mean, he's…" he made an upward motion, indicating an area far above his head. _Big,_ he wanted to say, but it seemed a euphemism if applied to Hagrid, a man who needed to bend to even walk into most rooms.

"Looks can be deceiving," Harry said simply.

Hagrid was waiting for them by his hut, wearing the same furry coat as the day they had met and looking excited for his first lesson. Fang was sitting at his heels, slobbering all over his boots.

"Bin waitin' fer yeh since lunch started!"

His booming voice easily reached even the students lagging behind the group and Percy distinctly saw Malfoy sneer contemptuously while a Slytherin girl with a pinched expression whispered in his ear.

Something in his gut tightened uncomfortably.

"Follow me! We don' h've much time."

He led them down the sloping hill towards the Forbidden Forest.

Ron cursed under his breath. "Please, tell me he isn't taking us where I think he's taking us."

Percy glanced between his cousin and his friends: none of them looked especially enthused by the prospect of an early afternoon stroll into the Forest.

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't give him permission," murmured Hermione, her worry obviously taking precedence over her fight with Ron. "I think."

She was right.

Hagrid made them stop just inside the Forest, not deep enough that they couldn't see the school's grounds. Even like this, the trees were tall and imposing enough that they blotted out the sun's rays, plunging them into a sort of early twilight.

"This is in no way reassuring," whispered Ron, pointing at something in front of them.

It was a fairly big paddock, but it blended in seamlessly with the surrounding, which was why Percy hadn't noticed it. It was empty, as far as Percy could see, but he didn't pay it much mind.

While his classmates were busy speculating on what creatures Hagrid would show them and the man himself tinkered with the latch on the paddock's gate, he turned his back on them to face the Castle.

From his spot, he could see the double doors clearly. The place where he had glimpsed some strange animal moving just a few days ago was probably not far from there. Had he been any other person in any other place, he'd have thought nothing of it, but he was a demigod in a school of magic and those bright eyes had been way too focused on them – or maybe on Harry – to be normal. He was convinced his cousin had seen the same, but Harry seemed determined to forget about it.

He was starting to believe a small investigation was in order, even if they were forbidden from going into the Forest.

"Ah! 'Ere we go!" Hagrid exclaimed.

Percy whirled around. The man had managed to get into the paddock and was now motioning them forward.

"Form a circle, would ya? Like that, yeah!"

There was a bit of collective shuffling as they all tried to fit in the clearing without actually getting closer to the paddock. Percy didn't know what all the fuss was about, but after seeing the grim expression on Harry's face, he decided not to tempt fate.

"Very well!" Hagrid rubbed his beard, grinning brightly. "I thought we'd start wit' somethin' interestin'. Wait 'ere a moment while I go get 'em."

They watched him disappear deeper into the Forest in a kind of antsy silence. A pale Ron broke it.

"Oh, God. We're dead," he said resignedly.

Neither Harry nor Hermione disputed this bleak prediction. In the privacy of his mind, Percy thought they were exaggerating. Whatever Hagrid was about to show them would stay inside the paddock, with no way of getting to them. Hopefully.

Hagrid came back a few minutes later, leading a dozen freaky creatures by the long chains attached to their collars.

There were a few squeals of surprise as the animals trotted towards them and a few students actually inched closer to the paddock.

They were exceptionally odd beasts: their back half was that of a horse, with long swishing tails and hoofs at the bottom of their hind legs. Their hair colour varied from light brown to bronze, from grey to inky black. About halfway up their body, it changed seamlessly into feathers as their front half took the unmistakable shape of a giant eagle. They sported sharp beaks and deadly-looking claws and they had wings as big as a Pegasus'.

Percy imagined for a moment that his father and Zeus had gotten drunk together one night, had decided to play with their respective sacred animals and this weird cross of a creature was the result.

"'Ere, boys!" Hagrid shook the chains, forcing the animals to a stop.

They tossed their heads, their orange eyes glinting fiercely, and they scratched at the ground stubbornly. Most of the class took a few hasty steps back.

"Right!" Hagrid tethered them to the fence. Percy would've preferred it if he didn't: they were a tad too close for comfort. "Who can tell me what they're?"

No answer came from the class.

Percy glanced around. Some of his classmates were staring in awe and perhaps a hint of caution at the winged animals; most of them, though, were carefully avoiding looking anywhere near Hagrid, as if worried they'd be called to answer were they to meet his hopeful gaze. Even Hermione, he noticed with surprise, appeared stumped.

"No one?" Hagrid tried again, sounding put-off, "Hasn' anyone read the book?"

Ah, yes. The book with a taste for human flesh. Percy wasn't surprised his classmates had had no better luck than him forcing it to cooperate, but Hagrid seemed to take their shaking heads as a personal insult.

"Well," drawled a voice Percy had unfortunately learned to recognize over the past days, "how exactly were we supposed to open them without losing a limb?"

And perhaps that was a fair question, still…Malfoy was such a detestable asshole he'd feel dirty agreeing with him.

Hagrid looked flustered. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. The way Malfoy obviously enjoyed seeing the poor man so out of his element made Percy's blood boil.

"Pity it didn't rip your tongue off," he snapped, "would've done everyone a favour."

His housemates didn't even try to hide their sniggers.

"Ok, that's enough!" ordered Hagrid, looking a bit more composed. It still didn't keep Malfoy's bodyguards from muttering darkly and throwing threatening glares Percy's way.

Harry moved surreptitiously in their line of sight as if to shield him.

"Alrigh', give me one o' yer books. I'll show yeh how ter open 'em."

The clearing filled with the creaking of paper as close to thirty murderous books were taken out of as many bags.

Percy's was bound shut with a rope: his mom had taken care of it after the stupid thing had ripped apart her new curtains in its destroying rampage. She hadn't been happy about it, especially since he had demolished her china cabinet with a badly thrown javelin just the day before.

Hermione offered her book to Hagrid and he ripped it free from the Spellotape it was wrapped in. It tried to bite him, its crooked jaw snapping relentlessly, but the man turned it over easily and trailed one of his big fingers down its spine. The book shivered like a satisfied cat and fell open.

Percy glanced dubiously at his own tome, straining with all its strength against the rope. It didn't seem inclined to be cuddled.

"See? Yeh've got to stroke 'em."

Malfoy obviously couldn't let the matter rest. "Of course! Why didn't we think of that?"

The girl with the pinched expression giggled loudly, throwing a mean look at Hagrid.

Harry glowered at them. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Yeah, well, I – I thought they were funny," said Hagrid, downcast.

Even with his unfortunate experience with bullies, Percy had rarely despised someone as much as he did Malfoy in that moment.

"Righ' then…" Hagrid turned towards the half-eagle, half-horse animals and that seemed to strengthen his resolve, "Righ'. These are Hippogriffs! Beau'iful, eh? Can someone tell me anythin' 'bout 'em? Hermione?"

"Oh, er, just that…" Hermione's eyes flitted all over the place, as if hoping for a help that didn't come, "they're really proud?" her slightly high-pitched tone made the answer sound more like a question.

Ron looked flabbergasted. "Wow, she doesn't know _everything_."

"Right yeh're, Hermione!" Hagrid patted one of the hippogriffs, a reddish specimen, on the back. "Hippogriffs are easily offended. One wrong word and yeh're done fer!"

Percy wasn't sure Hagrid realized just how _not_ comforting that was. He peered at the beasts' talons, half a foot long and glinting wickedly in the suffused light that managed to make it through the thick foliage.

"If yeh want ter get close ter a hippogiff, yeh wait fer him ter make the firs' move. Yeh bow and yeh wait fer him ter bow back. If he does, yeh can touch him. If he doesn', yeh back away sharpish 'cause those talons hurt.

"So, who wants ter try?"

Percy's eyebrows arched. Maybe Harry's concerns about Hagrid's teaching methods weren't such an exaggeration.

The rest of the class agreed with him because no one volunteered.

"No one?" Hagrid sounded disappointed.

Harry sighed deeply and Percy knew what was about to happen a moment before he spoke.

"I will."

A few girls held their breath and one of them whispered, "No, Harry, remember the Grim!"

Harry ignored them, walking into the paddock as Hagrid cheered him on.

Percy groaned low in his throat and Hermione glanced at him wearily. It was obvious she liked this turn of events roughly as much as he did. Not because of the Grim thing, of course, which he was sure was bull, but because he didn't think those animals were adequately house-broken.

Harry was clearly trying to help his friend – something Percy appreciated – but he still thought he was being rash.

Annabeth would say that was rich coming from him.

"Alrigh', Harry." Hagrid untied a grey hippogriff and separated it from the herd.

It looked annoyed, throwing its head back and straining against the collar, and Percy swallowed nervously. Harry had gone slightly pale.

"Try with Buckbeak. Bow slowly, without breakin' eye-contact, and wait fer him ter bow back."

"I don't like this," whispered Hermione, "I really, _really_ don't like this."

Ron stared at Harry's bent back with wide eyes, as if he expected the giant, spectral dog the Divination teacher had seen in the tea leaves to jump at his best friend from the bushes.

Buckbeak wasn't bowing back. It pawed the ground, unsettled.

"Ah, don' worry, Harry," said Hagrid, stepping cautiously closer. He looked ready to throw himself between Harry and the hippogriff. "Back away slowly. Yeah, like that."

Percy's hand slipped into his pocket. His fingers brushed the cool wood of his wand, but he bypassed it and took out Riptide instead, secrecy be damned.

Just when he was sure his cousin was about to be maimed, Buckbeak went down to its scaly knees.

Percy's hold around Riptide slacked slightly and he sighed, feeling as if a heavy weight had been taken off his chest. Sounds came back to the clearing as the rest of his classmates relaxed from their tense positions. He heard Ron murmur a 'thank Merlin'.

Their relief was short lived.

Hagrid clapped enthusiastically. "Good job, Harry! Now I think yeh can ride him!"

He must've heard wrong. "Ride him?" he hissed at an exceptionally pale Hermione.

Hagrid once again didn't seem to understand the danger he was putting Harry in, actually helping him hoist himself up. Percy felt cold – if that thing so much as bucked while in the air, Harry could end up a bloody stain on the ground.

"Ready, Harry?" Without waiting for an answer, Hagrid slapped the hippogriff on the hindquarters and the animal extended its wings with a high-pitched whistling.

Percy saw Harry's rather alarmed expression and the way his arms tightened around Buckbeak's strong neck just before they took flight, disappearing in a matter of seconds over the trees.

Hagrid exulted. "That's it, Harry!"

They scrutinized the sky for a few tense minutes, with the exception of Lavender, who had hidden her face in her hands and did not seem inclined to face the world any time soon. Percy almost wished to do the same. Just watching Buckbeak fly over the Forest and the Lake and imagining Harry on its back made him feel dizzy.

"You think we'll get to try, too?" Ron asked wistfully.

Hermione shivered. "I hope not."

When Buckbeak landed, with Harry still safely riding it and grinning wildly, they all cheered. As Hagrid helped his cousin down from the hippogriff's back, Percy glanced at the only three students who had not run up to the paddock. Malfoy and his cronies didn't look happy, as if they had hoped something would happen to Harry. They stood to the side, talking in an undertone. He wondered if they were plotting something nasty.

"Good job, Harry!" roared Hagrid. "Who is next?"

No one, Percy wanted to say, but the other students didn't seem to share his reservations. They climbed over the fence, emboldened by his cousin's success, and he had no other choice but to follow them.

"Percy, come 'ere!" Hagrid put one of his heavy hands on his back and led him over to a black hippogriff. "Try with Orlando!"

 _Orlando_? That poor beast.

The man didn't stay with him, wandering instead to the other side of the paddock to help Neville, who seemed to be having some problems with his hippogriff.

Apparently, he was on his own.

Percy took a deep breath and bowed deeply, never breaking eye contact with the animal. It reciprocated quickly enough and Percy glanced at Hagrid, unsure on what to do. He wasn't scared of the hippogriff – in fact, if he was honest with himself, he could admit he found them fascinating – but he was fairly sure the first and most important rule of The Demigod Handbook on How to Survive 'till Adulthood was: don't get too close to monsters!

Annabeth would never forgive him if he got himself killed without her there.

Hagrid was too preoccupied with Ron and Hermione to notice his hesitation, though, and so Percy threw caution to the wind and took that last step forward. The black hippogriff didn't seem to mind: it – _he_ bent his neck to allow him access to his feathered head. A sound that reminded Percy of a purring cat came from his throat.

Percy grinned. Despite their coarse look, the hippogriff's feathers were actually incredibly soft and the animal seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting.

Because he was having fun, which rarely happened to him in school, it wasn't until Malfoy's scream rent the air that he realized something had gone terribly wrong.

The boy laid on the ground, clutching his arm to his chest, while Hagrid wrestled with Buckbeak, who was furiously slashing at the air above Malfoy.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled, still curled in on himself. "Blood! There is blood!"

He wasn't lying. His white button-up was stained red and dark liquid dripped on the leaves under his body.

Percy rushed forward, a curious hippogriff at his heels. He slipped under Hagrid's arm as the man forced Buckbeak back into his collar and he kneeled by Malfoy's side. There was a wide gash on his right arm, but Percy didn't think the hippogriff's talons had cut deep enough to reach the muscle underneath. It certainly wasn't a life-threatening injury.

Malfoy didn't agree, or maybe he just liked being a drama queen. "It's killed me! It's killed me! I'm dying!"

"Shut up!" he ordered sharply, "It's just a bit of blood. Stop screaming like a baby!"

"I think that's more than a bit of blood," interjected a faint voice.

Percy looked over his shoulder. Ron stood behind him, staring at the blood oozing from Malfoy's wound with an expression that was at the same time vaguely nauseated and sickly fascinated.

"Yeh're not dyin'!" A pale Hagrid came running and almost bowled both of them over when he reached down to pick up a still moaning Malfoy. "This jus' a scratch…someone help me! Gotta get him to Madam Pomfrey…"

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She ran to the gate and opened it, letting Hagrid pass through.

The panicked class watched in silence as their teacher disappeared up the hill with Malfoy in his arms.

Harry, holding a now peaceful Buckbeak by the chain, summed up what they were all thinking. "This is really not good."

/

"…and then Buckbeak slashed his arm open, which wouldn't have happened if the idiot had just kept his mouth shut."

Annabeth snorted in laughter as Percy finished his retelling of their eventful first Care of Magical Creatures class.

"It's his own fault for not listening to your teacher. There is simply no accounting for stupidity."

"I guess." He leaned back against the sink, stretching his legs out. "But Harry and his friends are worried about Hagrid. They went to visit him."

They had wanted him to go with them, too, but he didn't think Hagrid would appreciate the presence of a virtual stranger in such a delicate moment and so he had declined, deciding instead to use the unexpected alone time to IM Annabeth. He had made sure the other three boys in their dormitory were busy in the Common Room and wouldn't be barging in on something he couldn't explain and then he had locked himself up in the bathroom so he could use the spray from the shower to conjure a rainbow.

"He could definitely get in trouble," Annabeth admitted, twisting her tie around one of her hands. She was still in her school uniform, a white button-up and a skirt the same blue colour as the tie. Considering the time difference, he guessed she had gotten home just before he called. "Hippogriffs seem more suited to Camp than to a mortal school. In fact," she added thoughtfully, "I might've read about them in some Greek myth."

"Really?"

Annabeth shrugged. "Yeah. I think they're one of Apollo's symbols."

"Cool. I thought…well, it doesn't matter." He wasn't sure Annabeth would find his theory on Poseidon and Zeus' drunken nights as fun as he thought it was. "This is a school for wizards, though. They are not exactly mortals. I mean, normal mortals, you know?"

"It's the same. Would a demigod have been hurt in that guy's place?"

Percy hesitated. He could name a few demigods that would've offended one of the hippogriffs just for kicks, but he couldn't think of any that would've gotten hurt doing it. Demigods were born for that kind of thing. They were made of tougher stuff, some more than others. He himself had fought and killed a Fury and the Minotaur with no training at all. "Guess you're right. You think he could be fired?"

Annabeth didn't answer, which was enough to send Percy's stomach on a stroll somewhere near his feet. Hagrid had looked so happy to be teaching, and Harry and his friends had been so proud…

Annabeth seemed to realize where his thoughts were taking him. "Maybe you're right," she hurried to say, wrinkling her tie beyond repair, "a magic school probably has different rules or something. I'm sure he won't be fired."

"I don't know…Malfoy seemed to be in a lot of pain."

Percy suspected most of it had been an act, but he didn't think Malfoy's parents were going to accept that as an explanation.

Annabeth crossed her legs, the mattress dipping gently underneath her. "Did you see the wound?"

Percy nodded. "It didn't seem serious, but I'm not a doctor. Harry said Malfoy likes to lie and turn things in his favour. He believes he'll use this incident to mess up Hagrid's life."

Annabeth frowned, tugging at a lock of hair. "He wants to complain to the Headmaster?"

"Nah," Percy shook his head. "Worse. Malfoy's father is some hot shot in the government. I'm not sure what kind of influence he has within the school."

Ron had explained it to him in an uncharacteristic display of knowledge. Malfoy's dad personally knew all the school governors and held at least half of them by the balls, which meant that if Malfoy Jn wanted something really badly, he'd probably get it, the brat.

Annabeth grimaced. "They sound like a pleasant family."

"If the father is even half as bad as the son, it's no surprise Harry is worried for Hagrid's future. Malfoy will milk this situation for all it's worth."

While he hadn't known Malfoy for long, he had had to put up with kids like him all his life. He knew how they operated, how they treated others when they wanted something. Malfoy clearly considered himself special, but he was just one more bully in a long list of them, a copy of hundreds of other people.

"Talking about families – how is yours?" he asked, feeling the need to leave the subject of Malfoy behind.

Annabeth looked away. "Same as always. My brothers destroyed one of my father's precious model planes, so I'm not the pariah of the family anymore, at least for now."

Percy thought it wise not to comment on her snide tone. "Oh, that's…nice."

She glared at him incredulously, but he thought he spied a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Whatever, Seaweed Brain. I'm used to it." She cocked her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder in a waterfall of curls. "What about Hogwarts? Murderous animals notwithstanding."

"Man, you have no idea. This place is mental. The _teachers_ are mental!"

Annabeth grinned. "As mental as Camp Half-blood?"

"Please," Percy scoffed, "nowhere else is as mental as Camp Half-Blood. Even if the Divination professor kind of predicted my cousin's death."

Annabeth's eyebrows rose. "Did she get a prophecy? Those are impossible to avoid, but they rarely mean what we think they mean."

"No, no prophecy, thank the Gods. She saw something in his tea leaves." He tried to remember the name of the omen, but it slipped his mind. "A…Grin? No, that doesn't make sense."

Annabeth perked up. "Was it a _Grim_ , perhaps?"

Percy gaped. "Yeah. How did you –? Wait, it's mythological, isn't it?" He sounded defeated even to his own ears. If the Grim really was part of mythology, then maybe that woman wasn't a fraud like Hermione believed.

Annabeth's cringe was all the answer he needed.

"Fantastic. Does it have something to do with Hades?"

She looked surprised at his assumption. "Oh, no, it's not part of _our_ mythology, but of the Celtic or maybe Germanic one. It's similar to a Hellhound – not evil per se, unless there is an errant soul to force back into the Underworld. Or a demigod to hunt, of course. Your cousin is not a half-blood, is he?"

"Not the kind you're thinking of."

Annabeth nodded confidently. "Then he has nothing to fear. A Black Dog would've no reason to attack a mortal."

Percy wasn't convinced. "Harry thinks he might've seen one, though. He said maybe it was a stray, but from his description, it really seemed a Hellhound. What if it was this Grim?"

Annabeth tapped her chin pensively. "I see no reason for a Hellhound to stalk a mortal. It's not like they can eat them. The Grim…well, it usually haunts cemeteries, crossroads or places of execution. Was he near any of these?"

Percy thought about it. "He was near his relatives' house, but I guess a cemetery could've been close by, or maybe he was standing on a crossroad. I think we can rule out the place of execution."

"Not necessarily," Annabeth contradicted, "the ancient pathways created by death and blood are notoriously hard to dispel. Maybe it was a place of executions hundreds of years ago. Anyway, I don't think your cousin has anything to worry about. He probably disturbed a Black Dog's resting place and that's what the professor saw in his tea leaves."

Percy drew a relieved breath. "That makes me feel better. I thought I'd have to watch his back for the rest of his life."

Annabeth laughed. "You're such a pessimist, Seaweed Brain."

"I prefer realist, thank you." He hesitated, wondering if he should mention the other thing on his mind or if it was better to close the conversation on a positive note. "There is something you should know, I think," he said, the echoes of Kronos' rasping voice sending shivers down his back. _You know what to do_. He was sure Annabeth would never forgive him if he kept something like that from her. "I had a dream the first night here."

The smile froze on Annabeth's face. "A demigod dream?"

"Yeah, about…" he cut himself off, remembering at the last second there were names it was better not to say out loud, "our friend _way_ down. Like, really deep down."

Annabeth stared at him with a set expression on her face. "Tell me everything."

He did, despite knowing she didn't like to be reminded of Luke's betrayal. He told her of Kronos' hinted plans, of Luke's hesitation and of his choice to help the Titan Lord in spite of it.

When he finished, Annabeth had assumed a sickly pale colour that clashed horribly with her customary Mediterranean tan. "That doesn't sound promising. Whatever he's planning, it can't mean anything good for us."

He noticed she carefully avoided any mention of Luke and of his role in said plan. He didn't call her out on it, even if he was oddly annoyed by it.

"Didn't he say anything more specific?"

Percy struggled to remember as much as he could of the dream. Fragments of it had inevitably gotten lost once he had woken up, but he was sure he had retained the essential parts. Luke's caged expression stood out sharply in the labyrinth of his memories, as did every word out of Kronos' mouth – or what passed as his mouth these days.

"No," he answered with confidence, "he was angry that Luke had failed again –" he ignored her flinch at the mention of the older demigod, not knowing how to deal with it without completely erasing Luke's involvement, which he refused to do, " – and he told him he already knew what he had to do. Luke didn't look sold on the plan, but he told… _him_ that he was going to do it, whatever it was."

Annabeth sighed heavily. "I had a dream, too, a few nights ago," she confessed.

Percy tensed. "You think it's linked?"

She shook her head, biting her nails. "I'm not sure. It wasn't clear. I just had this feeling of…oppression. It was like being trapped in a really narrow space. I couldn't move or talk and I even had trouble breathing. And…I think there was a fire nearby, or something like that, you know. Something scorching hot coming closer and closer." She shook her head again. "I know it means something, but I have no idea what."

Percy felt baffled. Interpreting a dream like that was close to impossible. "Did you tell Chiron?"

"No, it's not like he can help me. Maybe I'll have another one and then I'll be able to understand what's going on. It happens sometimes. But you should tell him about yours. It's clearly more ill-fated than mine."

"I thought as much. He made me promise to IM him once I got the lay of Hogwarts so I'll tell him then."

Annabeth ran a hand through her unruly curls. "You know, I thought things would settle down now that Zeus and Hades have their symbols of power back; that they'd work together and do something about all of this!"

Percy smiled bitterly. "Zeus refused to even _talk_ about it. I don't think they'll be doing anything any time soon."

"Maybe not Zeus and Hades, but there are other Gods." She leaned closer to the rainbow, her hair casting half her face into shadow. "I know my mother suspects something," she revealed in a whisper, as if sharing a secret, "and when Athena is suspicious, she investigates. And there's Hermes – I don't think he's keen on giving up on Luke so easily."

"My father, too," Percy continued for her, heart beating faster and fingers tingling with anticipation. "I doubt he'll take Zeus' decision laying down, not if he's anything like me."

"See? There is still hope." She straightened up, her lips curling into a fierce smile. "And if they decide to do nothing, we'll take care of it ourselves."

Percy felt a responding grin stretch his lips. Finally someone on his own wavelength!

Of all the people Luke could've made enemies of, he chose the worst one. Annabeth was going to give him hell.

/

/

Harry's shoulders slumped as the door to the Entrance Hall slammed shut. On the other side of it, Hagrid's footsteps grew fainter, but he could still hear the groundskeeper grumbling darkly about reckless children and irresponsible professors.

"That didn't go well," noted Ron, staring at the closed doors, "you think he'll be okay?"

Hermione sighed. "As long as he doesn't drink himself into a stupor again…"

Harry thought that was unlikely. Hagrid was a good friend, the first one he had made in the wizarding world, and Harry cared for him more than he could say, but he couldn't deny that he was an emotionally fragile man prone to self-harm. The worry he felt was almost a physical weight on his chest.

"Let's go back to the Common Room," he said resignedly, "there is nothing we can do right now and we'll be in trouble if we get caught."

Neither Ron nor Hermione disputed this claim.

They still had a few minutes before curfew, but they walked at a brisk pace, not wanting to be found loitering in the corridors by someone who would punish them regardless, like Filch or, even worse, Snape. Luckily, the Fat Lady hadn't yet left for her customary night stroll when they reached her painting and she let them in with only a mumbled reprimand and a mean eye.

The few students still up glanced distractedly at them as they climbed through the passage. Harry saw Dean and Seamus among them, playing Gobstones on the rug by the fireplace, and Neville, sitting on an armchair by the window, engrossed in a boring looking Herbology book.

Percy wasn't with them.

Harry's eyes slid from one corner of the room to the other, but he didn't find his cousin anywhere.

"Did Percy say what he was going to do while we visited Hagrid?" he asked, a note of worry edging into his voice.

Hermione shrugged. "No. Maybe he already went to bed."

Harry bit his lip, unconvinced. Percy hadn't seemed especially tired or particularly inclined to go to bed early. "Yeah, maybe."

"And where did you three go off to?"

Ron groaned loudly. He turned towards the twins with the air of a man contemplating murder. "None of your business!"

The two brothers were sitting at an out of the way table, which was why Harry hadn't noticed them upon his arrival. He shuffled closer despite Ron's whine of displeasure, curious about the jumble of weird looking junk cluttering the small, round table.

George elbowed his brother gently, grinning like a loon. "I believe they may be up to something unseemly, Forge."

"I agree, Gred. Could it have something to do with our good friend Malfoy the Incredible Hippogriff Charmer, perhaps?"

Harry sniggered. It was difficult to hold onto his worries in the twins' company. "News fly in this place."

"Hogwarts' grapevine is well and active, my friend. And Gryffindor has got some of the best gossipmongers in the school…" George used a quill to point at a gaggle of kids whispering and giggling not far from them. Lavender and Parvati were there, too.

Hermione snorted, not sparing them a glance. "Well, _we_ have no interest in getting a detention. You, on the other hand…what are you doing?"

She squinted suspiciously at the piece of parchment they were pouring over, but Fred stuffed it into his pocket before any of them could see what it was. Harry wondered why Hermione had singled something so common out when the table was covered by questionable objects, but Fred's hastiness in hiding it certainly left little doubt about the parchment's true nature.

"Let us have our secrets, Hermione."

Hermione looked ready to explode into one of her famous rants, but Harry interrupted her, not in the mood to listen to it.

"What else did you hear on the…grapevine?"

Fred and George exchanged a glance. "Many things," Fred said, "Lowe from Ravenclaw is cheating on Flanagan, the Hufflepuff Keeper,"

"Two fourth years were caught getting some action in a broom closet by Snape, but we don't know who. They are presumably dead," George continued.

"Sprout may or may not be growing weed in the Greenho –"

"That's not what he meant!" Hermione snapped, face reddened in anger, "and Professor Sprout is not growing weed!"

Fred raised his hands. "If you say so, Hermione."

"What did you want to know, then?" George asked.

"If you had heard something else about Malfoy," Harry said, "we visited Hagrid. He's in a bad shape."

The twins grew serious. "So is Malfoy apparently," said George, "at least from what his girlfriend is saying."

Harry assumed he was talking about Pansy Parkinson, who had taken on the role of Malfoy's unofficial girlfriend ever since their first year. He was fairly sure Malfoy himself didn't even know about it.

"Course, we are not certain she can be trusted, so I wouldn't worry too much yet," Fred finished.

Ron shook his head. "You know what Dad says about Lucius Malfoy. If he can cause trouble, he will. Mark my word, he'll use this incident any way he can."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He knew Ron was right. Just the year previous, Lucius Malfoy had given Ginny Voldemort's old school diary, which had led to the opening of the famed Chamber of Secrets and to the petrification of a number of students – Hermione among them – and even of a ghost. The three of them had ultimately put the clues together, with just enough time to save Ginny from Voldemort's memory self and kill the Basilisk. Despite being sure Malfoy Sn was to blame, Harry hadn't been able to prove it and so the man had suffered no consequences – as always.

For this reason, he had no problem believing Malfoy would go out of his way to get Hagrid – and Dumbledore – in trouble. Draco obviously knew it, too, and he was going to do his utmost to help his father's plan along.

Dean and Seamus were putting the gobstones back in their bag and they soon headed up to the dormitory.

As they passed by them, Harry stopped Seamus. "Hey, did you guys see Percy?"

The other boy shrugged. "He went up hours ago. We asked him if he wanted to stay with us, but he said he was tired."

"Oh, ok." Harry watched them go absentmindedly. Percy was a big boy and he didn't need Harry to mother him, but he still couldn't help but worry. He knew Percy had had trouble fitting in in the other schools he had attended, even if his cousin had never said anything explicit to him, and he felt as if it was his duty to make sure Hogwarts was different for him. Harry knew too well what it meant to be friendless and alone and it wasn't a nice feeling.

"We should go too," Hermione said, "it's getting late."

They bid goodnight to the twins, who had gone back to working on their experiments, and followed Dean and Seamus upstairs.

Percy stepped out of the bathroom just as they entered the room, a cloud of billowing steam following him. He glanced at the clock on Dean's bedside table and Harry thought he looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected it to be so late.

"I thought you were already in bed," Harry said, carelessly throwing his cloak into his trunk.

Percy shrugged. "Wanted to take a shower first."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "That was a pretty long shower, mate."

Percy shrugged again, unbuttoning his shirt. Harry frowned: if he really had taken a shower as he had said, why was he still wearing half of his uniform? It seemed like a badly thought out lie to him, but he guessed Percy had the right to have his secrets. They didn't know each other well enough that Harry felt comfortable prying.

Still, he couldn't help but notice the tight set of his expression and the slight wrinkles around his eyes. He hadn't seemed especially worried when they had left to visit Hagrid and Harry couldn't imagine what had changed in those few hours.

He slipped into bed, tumultuous thoughts swirling about in his mind. His worry for Hagrid, Percy's strange behaviour and his obvious reticence, Sirius Black and the fear he seemed to arouse in just about everyone…

He hadn't imagined his return to Hogwarts would be quite so turbulent and it didn't seem like it would improve any time soon.

/

/


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Hi, guys! I'm finally back, late as usual, though it's not entirely my fault. This chapter was ready a few days ago – almost a week – but my internet connection was down, so I had to wait. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!

 **Thank you to all my followers and to those who have reviewed!**

 **Disclaimer:** Though I wouldn't mind owning these guys (especially Percy), I'm forced to concede that absolutely nothing is mine.

/

 **Chapter ten: In which things go bump in the night**

A few days after the Hippogriff incident, as he had taken to calling it, Percy had his first ever Potions class.

He was proud to say it was an unencumbered disaster.

They got there just after lunch, with a few minutes to spare. Harry and his friends had insisted they leave early, saying that Professor Snape was famous for taking away points from Gryffindor over the silliest things. Percy had accepted rather gloomily, throwing one last mournful look at the slice of treacle tart on his plate (Harry had introduced him to the dessert his second day at Hogwarts and while it wasn't as tasty as his mother's blue cookies, it was still pretty good). He wasn't sure he'd survive until dinnertime with so much blood in his sugar stream.

Potions was held in one of the dungeons, which didn't endear him any to either the subject or its teacher. It was a damp, cold place and the low ceiling of the classroom gave him a sense of claustrophobia. He had barely stepped into the room and he already missed the fresh air and open sky of the school grounds.

He glanced around, trying to get a feel of what would be his prison for the next hour, and he almost jumped out of his own skin. Hundreds of small eyes, blank and gelatinous, stared back at him out of a glass jar.

"Ingredients for potions," murmured Ron, looking over his shoulder, "Creepy, eh?"

Percy nodded, taking in the rest of the room. He was dismayed to find that the eyes weren't the spookier thing in there by far. From every corner of the room, the sad remains of pickled animals gazed at them accusingly.

He choked back the disgusting taste of vomit. Call him squeamish, but he wasn't too keen on touching any of those things.

"Let's find seats before all the good ones are taken, okay?" said Harry.

A few more students – Gryffindors and Slytherins alike – had trickled into the classroom while Percy was busy studying the cheerful décor. He noticed that while the Slytherins were sitting in the first few rows, the Gryffindors had all chosen seats to the back, as far away from the teacher's desk as possible.

Surprise shot through him when he saw Hermione do the same. He hadn't pegged her as someone who could pass up the opportunity to show off in class (and he meant that in the nicest way possible).

Percy sat down next to her while Ron and Harry took the desks right in front of them.

"Hey, mate," came Seamus's voice from behind him, "first Potions class, right?"

He turned to face him. "Yeah. Harry says Snape is a hard-ass."

Hermione made a disapproving noise.

"He would think that," Seamus said with a snigger, "Snape _detests_ him."

"But he's right," interjected Dean, looking up from his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , "Snape doesn't really like anybody and he especially can't stand Gryffindors."

"How exactly am I supposed not to end up in detention?" Percy asked. He had promised his mom she wouldn't receive letters from the school until _at least_ the end of the month and he planned on keeping his word.

After that…well, she was used to it.

Seamus shrugged. "I'd like to know that, too. Just think of him as a wild and dangerous animal. Like a dragon or something. Don't look at him in the eyes and don't make sudden movements."

Snape arrived a few minutes later in a swirl of black robes, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

Neville, who had been rather jittery ever since lunch, sent the brass scale he was positioning on his desk crashing to the floor.

"Lesson has not even started yet, Longbottom," Snape said, "can you abstain from causing damage until that moment?"

Neville went beet red. The Slytherin half of the classroom snickered and made faces at him, something which Snape evidently didn't feel the need to put an end to.

Percy caught Hermione's eye and she shook her head infinitesimally.

"Today," Snape began, his barely there voice forcing them to lean forward on their desks, "you will be making a Shrinking Solution, if you can manage it. For those of you who have taken time out of your no doubt busy summer schedule to complete the essay I assigned you, it will prove to be a fairly simple concoction. The rest will probably fail. Of course," he added, a malicious light shining in the depths of his dark eyes, "some of you are rather used to it."

He made a show of glancing at their half of the classroom. It was enough to set Percy's teeth on edge.

"Ah, our new student," Snape said snidely, eyeing him, "finally decided your education was important enough to join us?"

The Slytherin girl he often saw hanging from Malfoy's arm laughed giddily and Percy felt like throwing something at her. His mouth was unnaturally dry.

"I hope you'll show more aptitude for my subject than your cousin, Mr Jackson," Snape went on, "This class doesn't need any more lazy dunderheads. Longbottom is quite enough on his own."

Forget Mr Nicoll. Forget even Mrs Dodds the Fury. Snape had just won first place in his personal – and extremely long – list of most hated teachers.

Judging from his stiff back, Harry seemed to share his feelings.

Snape moved to the front of the classroom. "You'll find the ingredients you'll need in the cupboard, as always. Instructions –" he tapped his wand on the blackboard and thin, spidery-like writing appeared "– are on the blackboard. Commence."

Hermione leapt to her feet with a vague promise to get his ingredients, too. A few other of their classmates followed her at a far more sedated pace.

Percy stared in baffled horror at the blackboard: it was like trying to read Sanskrit while swinging upside down from the ceiling. Knowing that the situation was hopeless, he took out his book. He had luckily remembered to turn the language from English to Ancient Greek the night before, so at least he wouldn't have to deal with his dyslexia on top of his ADHD messing with his concentration.

"Oh, no, don't do that," said Hermione, dumping her armful of roots and small, dead animals on their table. A sickeningly yellow eye rolled over the top and onto his lap. "Snape gives us different instructions. We never use the book."

Percy gingerly picked up the disgusting blob and set it back on the table. His day definitely wasn't showing any sign of improvement. "Why did I buy it then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We _do_ use it to study. Don't worry, I'll help you."

He shut his book and put it back in the bag, feeling his chances of earning a decent grade decreasing by the second.

"As a first thing, we need to slice five caterpillars and let them heat until the potion turns red," Hermione said in a whisper, starting the fire under both their cauldrons.

Percy stared at it enviously. Had he tried that, he'd have either burned to whole classroom to a crisp or made a fool of himself.

He grabbed his five caterpillars and cut them into equally thin slices the way Hermione was doing. At least he was good with a knife.

He squinted at the blackboard, trying to read the next step. All he saw was: kahes het edeelp evlshgrifi. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.

"You need to get your sight checked," said Hermione.

Percy looked at her. "Uh?" She was skinning what looked like an overgrown purple fig. Purple drops trickled down her arm and stained the sleeve of her shirt.

"The way you were squinting at the blackboard," she explained, "You can't see it properly, can you?"

"Oh, no, that's not…I'm dyslexic."

Hermione looked up. "Really? Do you need me to read the instructions to you?"

Percy blushed, but still felt a frisson of relief. "That would be great."

She glanced at Snape out of the corner of her eye. He was checking a Slytherin boy's potion, his back to them. "Just make sure Snape doesn't see us or he'll take away points."

Even with her help, it was far from easy, but Percy thought he wasn't doing so bad all things considered. His potion was the light red colour described in the instructions and having Hermione dictate it to him step by step meant his mind couldn't wander too much.

More importantly, he hadn't blown himself up and Snape had yet to say anything particularly demeaning about him or his work.

Harry and Neville weren't so lucky. His cousin certainly hadn't been lying when he had said Snape hated him. It seemed the professor was doing everything he could to make sure Harry failed, from constantly breathing down his neck to straight-out taunting him.

What Neville had to put up with was almost worse. Snape obviously knew the effect he had on the boy, and he was more than willing to use it against him. Percy found himself unnerved by the cruel set of Snape's mouth and by the satisfied glint that shone in his eyes every time he looked at Neville, and after the summer he had had, not much unnerved him anymore.

About halfway through the lesson, Malfoy showed up.

His arm was in a sling and he wore a pained expression that didn't fool Percy for even one second, but that seemed to work on most of his housemates.

Snape was obviously suicidal, because he put Malfoy to work with Ron and Harry, and even ordered them to prepare Malfoy's ingredients in his place. Percy would be surprised if one of them – probably Ron – didn't finish what Buckbeak had started.

Things spiralled out of control when Snape stopped by Neville's worktable.

"Well, well. What do we have here, Longbottom?" Snape took out a spoonful of Neville's potion and then dumped it back into the cauldron, allowing everyone to get a good look at it. It was a garish shade of orange. "It seems you yet again managed to confuse simple instructions, Longbottom." He straightened up, looking cruelly amused. "How about I give you the right incentive?"

Percy felt a pang of discomfort in his chest.

"Pay attention, everyone."

They all looked up, even Harry, Ron and Malfoy, who had been engrossed in a hushed conversation.

"At the end of the lesson, I'll feed a few drops of Longbottom's potion to his toad. If the potion is correctly brewed, it will turn into a tadpole; if not, it will probably die. I have no doubt which one of the two options is more likely."

He threw one last scornful look at the potion and at Neville, who was visibly fighting back tears.

Percy's stomach fell to his feet. He stared at Snape as he strode away, resuming his stroll through the classroom. His pleased smirk reminded Percy of every teacher that had made fun of his learning disabilities and of every bully that had gloated after getting him in trouble.

"Professor," Hermione said timidly, "perhaps I could help Neville with the potion. I could explain –"

Snape didn't even bother turning around. "No one asked you to show off, Miss Granger. Mind your own work."

Looking back at it, Percy wasn't sure whether it was Snape's caustic words or Hermione's wounded expression that did it, but he snapped.

His hand flexed so hard around the knife, he thought the skin on his knuckles would split open. Anger inflamed him, tugging at his gut. There was a high-pitched whistling in his ears as he glared hatefully at Snape.

The greenish, smelly potion a blonde boy was stirring just a few seats over sloshed out of the cauldron as if traversed by a wave.

It happened just as Snape bent down to examine it, his mouth contorted in a grimace. With a deafening whooshing sound, the liquid jumped about a metre in the air, drenching him from head to foot.

Complete silence enveloped the classroom, broken only by Percy's knife clattering to the ground. Hermione brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and horrified.

"Which one of you absolute idiots," Snape hissed, his voice dangerously low, "thought playing around with a potentially lethal potion would be funny?"

Most of the class stared horror-struck at him, too cowed to say anything.

Percy, on the other hand, was beginning to appreciate the hilarious side of the mishap. Snape had been _dying_ to poison an innocent pet with that very same potion: it was poetic justice that he was now dripping it all over the floor. His mom would understand why he had done it.

His newfound good mood didn't last long.

Snape whirled around, foul green droplets flying from his greasy hair. "Potter!"

Harry gave a jerk.

"You thought it would be entertaining, didn't you? Such a witty prank to play."

Harry's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. "What?" he managed in the end, "No, I…I didn't do anything!"

Snape ignored his objection. He stalked to Harry's desk, pale with anger.

Percy felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't punish his cousin without proof, could he?

Apparently, he could.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and consider yourself lucky I won't assign you detention. It amazes me how you have yet to learn not everyone is here to pamper you. And now get back to work, all of you!" he barked, "I don't have all day."

It was a bunch of disheartened Gryffindors that left Potions class half an hour later, after Snape had ducked yet more points from Hermione for helping Neville 'cheat'.

Percy didn't think he had ever felt quite this guilty. He was usually the one other people got in trouble in their place, not the other way around. He wasn't sure how to deal with it. He had even entertained the idea of telling Harry the truth and apologizing, but he was scared of drawing unwanted attention to his abilities.

Hermione misinterpreted his downcast expression. "I'm sorry, that wasn't a good first lesson, was it?"

Harry snorted. "No lesson with Snape is ever good," he said harshly, "he simply can't consider himself happy if he doesn't make our life a living hell."

"That's not true, Harry," Hermione said, "he's just…"

Harry stared at her expectantly. "Go on. He's just what?"

"An asshole," Percy answered in Hermione's place, ignoring her appalled glare, "I met a lot of terrible teachers, but Snape gets the cake. Well, almost."

Even if he had thought Snape was actually worse than Mrs Dodds, he at least hadn't tried to cut him into bloody ribbons. Yet.

"Cheer up, mate," said Ron, patting Harry on the back, "no one will blame you for a few points lost, especially from Snape."

"And we have Defence now," Hermione added cheerfully, "It's bound to be better than Potions."

Harry scoffed, but he was smiling. Percy's heart felt a little lighter: he at least hadn't managed to destroy his cousin's social life. " _Anything_ is better than Potions, especially Defence. You'll have fun, Percy, just wait and see."

/

Percy didn't have fun.

That's not to say Defence was as bad as Potions. It was, in fact, a thousand times better. Lupin was a cool teacher – he had certainly earned everyone's respect with the way he had dealt with Peeves the Poltergeist – and the subject was stimulating enough to catch even his interest, not a simple thing to do.

It started well enough. No books and the promise of a spot of action sounded like a sweet deal to him, but of course, the stupid Boggart ruined everything.

Lupin led them to the staffroom, a panelled room with a set of mismatched, wooden chairs and a fire roaring happily in the hearth. He made them stop in front of an old wardrobe.

"This," Lupin said, waving at the beaten-up piece of furniture, "is where a Boggart is hiding. Does anyone know what a Boggart is?"

A Boggart, Hermione explained in her book-like fashion, was a shape-shifter. It had the power to take on the form of a person's worst fear.

It made for an interesting challenge – or it would, if Percy had any idea what his worst fear was.

"So the question is: what are you most scared of?" Lupin asked, "That's what the Boggart will take the shape of."

Percy thought about it, hard, but he wasn't sure he had been able to come up with a suitable – and honest – answer.

Though he wasn't keen on admitting it, there were quite a few things that scared him, and none that he wanted his schoolmates to see. Losing his mom was the most obvious. He still had nightmares about that night on Half-Blood Hill, even though he knew she was okay.

There was Smelly Gabe. He didn't like to admit it even to himself, but there had been a time, when he was small and still not so used to dealing with bullies, his odious stepfather had terrified him. The last thing he wanted was for the Boggart to wear his face, especially in front of his cousin and his friends.

Another, less obvious fear surfaced to the forefront of his mind just as Parvati battled her mummy-shaped Boggart. His father – or what his father could say to him. His self-esteem didn't need another hit, not after their disastrous and painful first meeting. Could the Boggart even make himself look like Poseidon? A Poseidon that called him a mistake and a disappointment?

There was no way he could turn any of that into something even remotely funny.

When Lupin ended the lesson before he could face the Boggart, he was in equal parts relieved and disappointed. He wouldn't have minded finding out his deepest fear, but he didn't want it to be such a public affair.

Hermione and Harry hadn't had the chance to try either, but only the latter seemed discouraged by it. Percy caught him shooting a frustrated look at Lupin as they left the teachers' lounge.

After the lesson, they trudged back to the Common Room to dump their bags and then left soon after to go to dinner.

Just as they were descending the marble staircase, Percy saw something that gave him pause. A small, blonde girl, wearing a blue and bronze tie, cracked the double doors open and slipped out, unnoticed by the masses of students crowding the Entrance Hall. Though he hadn't thought about her in the past few days, Percy recognized her at once: she was the girl from the Welcoming Feast.

Without meaning to, he took a step in the same direction, wondering why she was leaving the castle at this time of the evening.

"Percy? The Great Hall is this way."

He turned. Harry was waiting for him on the threshold of the Great Hall, while Ron and Hermione had stopped just a few steps inside. From what he could hear, they were still discussing their first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson. Ron was waving madly as he described how he had defeated his spider-Boggart; Hermione ignored him, exposing instead her theories on what her own Boggart would've been.

"I know, I was just…" he glanced back at the doors. It really wasn't any of his business what an unknown girl did in her free time, but he found he was too curious to let it go. "I'm not really hungry, Harry," he said after a moment, "and I'm a bit tired. I think I'll go back to the Common Room."

Harry's eyebrows reached his hairline. "You sure? If you don't eat now you'll have to wait until breakfast tomorrow."

Percy shrugged. "Yeah, don't worry," he assured, hoping his cousin couldn't hear his stomach's reproachful grumbling, "You go on without me."

Harry hesitated for a moment longer and Percy silently urged him to leave. He would never find where the girl had gone if he didn't hurry.

"Okay, then," Harry gave up, "I'll see you later. You'll have no problem going back to the Common Room alone, right?"

Percy assured him that yes, he could find the way back no problem, and then watched as the crowd of black uniforms swallowed the three of them.

He waited until he was sure they weren't coming back and then jogged to the doors, his mind half on the blonde girl, half on his cousin. Harry had seemed somewhat distracted and he wondered if the Boggart had rattled him the way it had done Percy or if something else entirely was on his mind.

With most of the students having gone back in, the grounds were empty and peaceful. Warm light from the castle's windows bathed squares of grass in yellow and the lake glimmered red and orange from the dying sun. Percy thought he saw a tentacle disappearing below the gentle waves.

A light was on in Hagrid's cabin and smoke floated out of its chimney towards the purplish sky. He could hear Fang barking excitedly.

The girl stood by the professor's vegetable garden, staring up at him and waiting, as if they were friends out for a stroll and not two virtual strangers.

Perplexed and a tad wary, he slowly walked down the gently sloping hill.

"Hi," the girl said when he stopped in front of her.

Her dirty blonde hair was piled up on top of her head and he noticed her wand sticking out of it.

"Er, hi. You knew I was…?"

She smiled. "Following me? Yeah, I saw you. You are Harry Potter's cousin."

It wasn't a question. "Yeah. Name's Percy. You know Harry?"

She peered at him from under her bangs. Her eyes were almost silver in the light of the setting sun and so big they seemed to protrude. "We all know him, but I don't think many people _know_ him, you know?"

Percy frowned. "I…think I do." Maybe. He didn't think asking for clarification would prove useful. "Erm, what did you say your name was?"

She blinked. "I didn't say. It's Luna Lovegood, but a lot of people call me Loony."

He grimaced. "That's not nice."

Luna shrugged, not looking bothered in the least. "They think I'm strange. I think it's sad they are not."

A startled laugh escaped him. "That's one way of seeing it, I guess." He glanced back at the Castle. "Umh, not to sound nosy, but are you going somewhere?"

"Of course," she answered with a dreamy smile, "aren't we all?"

He floundered around for an adequate response, but came up empty handed. What was it about him that attracted weirdos who liked to speak in riddles?

"If you mean right now," she went on, "I'm going to visit my friends. Want to come?"

He probably would've felt safer had she asked him if he wanted to take part in a demon-summoning ritual. "Er, no, thank you, I don't think your friends –"

"Nonsense." She took him by the arm and dragged him farther down the hill. "They'll like you."

Percy tugged his arm free not too gently and stumbled back. "I really don't think that's a good idea," he tried again, not sure he liked the turn things were taking. Damn him and his curiosity. At best, she was going to think he was a rude jerk, first following her like a stalker and then ditching her; at worst, she was a monster in disguise and he was about to land himself in a whole host of troubles. Why had he thought this was a good idea, again? "Harry is, er, waiting for me."

Luna stared at him curiously and he got the distinct impression she knew it was a lie. "I think my friends would like to meet you. I saw you talking to them."

Percy stepped back. She had gone from being slightly alarming to downright suspicious. She didn't look so small and harmless anymore. "I talk to a lot of people."

That was actually another lie. He hadn't really talked to anyone outside of his Gryffindor year-mates since arriving at Hogwarts.

Luna grinned. "They are not people. Are you coming or not?"

He swayed on the spot, torn between following her as she skipped down the hill and going back to the Castle and forgetting this whole meeting had ever taken place. He had learned the hard way that people could be far more dangerous than they appeared, but despite being extremely weird and probably not all there, Luna didn't seem to be out for anyone's blood, much less his. Still, what she had said about her friends not being 'people' was not at all reassuring…

Whatever. He was too damn curious to go back and if her friends really weren't humans, it would be better to find out now than be surprised later.

He ran towards her form, now shrouded in the shadows of the Forest. "Wait! I'm coming with you!"

She slowed down and waited for him to join her. They were standing at the edge of the Forest. The ancient trees loomed over them, spectral in the early evening light.

"Don't tell me. We are going in there."

Luna's smile was almost enough to make him reconsider the wisdom of his actions.

/

The Forbidden Forest at night was eerie, much more so than at day. Every shadow was a monster lurking in the darkness of the thick trees; every sound the footsteps of some creature stalking them. The more Percy strained his ears, the deafer he felt, and though he kept his eyes peeled for any strange movement, he found he couldn't see farther than his own nose. The light of the moon didn't penetrate the thriving foliage and the blackness was like a tangible weight. It pressed against his chest, giving him the uncomfortable sensation of choking on nothing.

Luna seemed to know where she was going, never losing sight of the barely there path they were following. She had no problem finding it even amongst the blooming blushes and fallen branches.

"You come here often," he noted, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper. He felt observed, and he wasn't sure whether that was just his mind playing tricks on him or if something far more serious was going on.

"Yes." She tilted her head to the side. "The only one who comes here more often than I do is Hagrid. It's a pity so few people appreciate the beauty of this place, don't you think?"

Well, they certainly had more sense of self-preservation than he did. 'Beautiful' wasn't the first word that came to his mind when thinking about the Forest, though he couldn't deny it held a certain appeal.

"Where are we going exactly?"

"There is a clearing. It's not far."

They lapsed into silence. Percy didn't know what to say and Luna didn't seem in a hurry to keep the conversation going. She skipped ahead of him, humming under her breath.

Percy wished she'd be quieter. Dry leaves and twigs creaked under her feet and her voice reverberated against the tree trunks. Back at Camp, during their games of Capture the Flag, he had learned that stealth was a virtue few people appreciated: Luna was obviously not among them.

A sharp crunching sound echoed throughout the Forest, drowning out Luna's low singing.

Percy swivelled on the spot. He was sure the noise had originated from somewhere behind them. He squinted at the darkness, his breathing loud in his ears. Nothing, but the ghostly shapes of the trees. He pulled Riptide, still in its pen form, out of his pocket. He didn't care what his eyes were telling him – he was on edge. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage and his hands tingled, as if impatient to wrap around the hilt of his trusty sword. He _knew_ something was there, studying their movements, waiting for –

"It was just an animal."

Percy started and Riptide almost slipped from his jerking fingers. He faced Luna. "Jeez, you gave me a heart-attack!"

Luna looked nonplussed, and generally unimpressed. "We need to go. There is nothing here, don't worry."

Percy threw one last glance at the path they were leaving behind. Maybe Luna was right, after all. Maybe he was just being paranoid. They were in a Forest – of course there would be animals prowling about.

And yet…he couldn't shake the feeling they were being spied.

They got to the clearing a few minutes later, though it felt much longer to Percy.

It was pretty big and almost perfectly round in shape. Trees so tall he couldn't see where they ended bordered its edges. Percy trailed his hand down the closest tree's rust coloured bark: the trunk was so large it'd take at least eight people holding hands to hug it. Its soft, brown needles carpeted the muddy ground, muffling the sounds of small animals scuttling in the undergrowth.

Owls hooted overhead. Percy thought he saw one swooping down behind the line of trees, no doubt decreeing some poor creature's end.

As he walked farther into the clearing, stepping through two thick bushes, their glossy leaves and deep purple flowers staining his white button-up, he became uncomfortably aware of the pungent scent of rotting meat.

It was overwhelming and it easily dominated over the softer and more fragrant scent of the flowers.

He gagged, his eyes watering. "Oh, Gods!"

"Don't mind their diet," said Luna.

Percy glared at her, a hand over his nose and mouth. "You mean their diet of incautious students?"

He leapt back when a high, and entirely too loud, laugh escaped Luna's mouth. She clutched her belly, tears of mirth leaking from her eyes.

Percy glanced around anxiously, worried the racket they were making was going to attract something unsavoury.

"Don't be silly," she said, still panting from her bout of hilarity, "they are scavengers, mostly. We have nothing to worry about. Ah, here they come."

Glittering white eyes blinked at him from the darkness between two trees. The creature glided forward, revealing a long, reptilian snout and a lustrous black mane. Its leathery wings were half-extended and its long tail swished excitedly.

A disembodied voice resounded in his head. _Young Lord. You came._

Percy wasn't sure how, but he knew it was female.

A few more specimen joined her. Two of them were smaller and they came in at the tail end of the herd, stumbling the whole way. One had to be pushed back to its feet after a rather disastrous fall.

Luna fearlessly went up to them and offered them her hand. One of the horses rubbed its snout against it.

Percy walked closer to the horse that had spoken in his head, the first to appear in the clearing. _Why do you keep calling me that?_

She neighed and Percy thought it sounded a bit like a laugh. _Because you are. Your father is our Lord and you're a small Lord._

She neighed again and this time Percy was sure she was having fun at his expenses.

 _I hope you're referring to my age,_ he mentally grumbled.

She bumped her head against his collarbone and though Percy could still feel amusement rolling off her in waves, he relaxed. He placed a hand on her snout, the way he had seen Silena Beauregard do when the horses at Camp got upset or scared. Her skin was cold and smooth, kind of like Percy thought the skin of a snake would be. Her large, pupil-less eyes blinked at him and she pushed against his hand. Percy grinned.

"They like you."

Percy tilted his head in Luna's direction, but he didn't stop stroking the dragonish horse's snout. She seemed to appreciate it. "You think?"

"Yeah." Luna stepped to his side, followed by one of the foals. It trotted up to Percy and caught the edge of his sleeve in its mouth. It tugged playfully and Percy caught a glimpse of its sharp teeth, as if its mouth was full of canines. "They don't like many people."

The rest of the herd approached them cautiously and Percy saw there were now at least twenty of them. Though they were pretty much surrounded, he wasn't worried. He could feel their curiosity, and their excitement, but he picked up no negative emotion.

"What does that mean?"

Luna shrugged, brushing the foal's black mane with her fingers. "That you are a good person, I think."

Percy's mouth twitched. _Or maybe that I have unfair connections_ , he told 'his' horse. She let out another neigh-laugh and Percy thought she must agree with him.

"What are they?" he whispered, watching as the two foals circled each other.

Luna plopped down on the ground, unconcerned about the mud and the dirt, and crossed her legs underneath her. Percy thought for a moment, trying to decide how much he cared about his uniform pants, and then imitated her.

Now that he had stopped petting her, the horse wandered back to the edge of the clearing, taking the rest of the herd with her. Only the foals stayed where they were.

"They're called Thestrals," Luna said, "they're gentle creatures; a bit timid, but they don't mind helping humans if asked politely. Most people avoid them, though. They think they are a mark of ill omen, that seeing one of them is a presage of death."

Percy studied the foals closely. Their game had progressed to the biting and scratching stage – perhaps a bit violent, but no more so than what other animals, or even humans, did. He certainly didn't feel any different around them: their presence didn't trigger his demigod senses and his blood didn't scream at him to _fight, run, survive_. Even if they looked like something out of Tartarus, he couldn't believe such friendly creatures were an omen of death. They certainly had nothing in common with the likes of Mrs Dodds. "But that's not true, is it?"

His Thestral turned to stare at him and a shiver went down his spine. There was something awfully intelligent in her gaze. _Your father is not our only Lord, young master._

Luna's dirty blonde hair slipped out of her makeshift bun as she shook her head. "No, but their spooky appearance puts people off. The reason why they are so misunderstood is that…only people who have seen death can see them."

Percy drew in a sharp breath. That meant… "I'm sorry."

Luna smiled brightly at him. Her face looked even paler and her eyes bigger in the soft light of the moon. "It was my mother," she said without any prompting, "I was nine. There was an incident during one of her experiments. She loved experiments, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Percy repeated uselessly. He knew what she must've felt – the loneliness, the helplessness of not being able to change how things had gone, the recrimination – that perpetual undercurrent of _if only I had done something, anything_ – but he, at least, had had something to fight for and, in the end, he had gotten his mom back. Luna's mom wouldn't come back.

"It's okay. I've come to accept it."

Percy wondered distractedly if he would have been able to do the same. He somehow doubted it.

He glanced back at the grazing Thestrals, frowning. Something didn't quite add up. "You have to see someone dying to be able to see them? A person?"

Luna cocked her head to the side. "Yes. You don't have to tell me who it was, though. I understand."

"No, it's just –" he snapped his mouth shut, unsure how much he wanted to share with Luna.

He had never seen a human being die.

/

They remained there, gazing at the slice of starred sky visible through the thriving foliage, until Percy was sure their curfew was way past. He wondered how they were supposed to sneak back in, and if he'd be able to find his way back to the Common Room even in the dark and with the teachers patrolling the corridors.

When it got too cold to lay on the grass, they got up, brushing dirt off their clothes, and bid the Thestrals goodbye, at least for now. The female he had talked to wrung a promise to visit again out of him.

It was roughly ten minutes later that Percy became uncomfortably aware someone was following them. His senses prickled uneasily, demanding his attention, but he was still so concentrated on trying to work out why, exactly, he could see the Thestrals, that it took him a while to realize it.

Luna didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Maybe she was used to being stalked; or maybe she wasn't as perceptive about this sort of things as she seemed to be about people.

"Hey." He grabbed her elbow gently and she came to a stop. "Listen…do you mind going back on your own? It's not far."

Luna cocked her head to the side, gazing up at him curiously. For a moment, he thought she was going to demand an explanation, like he would've done, but then she just shrugged, appearing unconcerned. "Okay. I'll see you at school."

She turned tail and skipped away happily.

Percy stared after her, his eyebrows arching. He had wanted her to leave, true, but the ease with which she had accepted his request seemed almost callous. Then again, she didn't seem to perceive danger the way most people did.

It was better this way, he told himself. If their mysterious pursuer was a monster, Percy was the one it wanted. There was no reason for Luna to get involved.

The Forest had gone unnaturally quiet. He hadn't realized it before, but the chirping of crickets and the squeaking of small animals had been the soundtrack of their night stroll. Now that he couldn't hear them anymore, he felt unsettled.

The sharp sound of a dry twig snapping broke the silence.

He spun around. Just as he had expected, no one was there – or at least no one he could see.

Percy slipped Riptide out of his pocket. Holding it, he felt far more confident in his ability to escape dangerous situations unscathed.

"I know you're there. You can come out," he said. Though he knew goading an enemy into attacking was neither smart nor wise, he couldn't help but add, "Before I die of boredom, if you don't mind."

A girlish giggle resounded somewhere nearby and Percy frowned, looking around. It sounded somewhat familiar…

A large bush between two pines rustled and a tall shape emerged from the shadows, the _clop-clop_ of its hoofs muffled by the wet, rotting needles on the ground.

It wasn't a monster, but a centaur, though that did nothing to soothe his nerves.

He was as tall as Chiron, Percy's mentor and the only centaur he had ever met, but the similarities ended there. Compared to his trainer, who enjoyed tweed jackets and whose hair and beard were always elegantly trimmed, this centaur was downright wild. He was bare-chested – and Percy couldn't help but notice, with a twinge of worry, the muscles twitching underneath his dark skin – and his black hair was unkempt and long enough that it brushed against his dark horse body. He held a bow as tall as Percy was in his hand and he had a quiver slung over his shoulders.

Percy had to crane his neck back to meet his eyes; when he did, his throat went dry.

In his gaze, there was nothing of the kindness he was used to seeing in Chiron's. His brown eyes were cold and distant, and he was looking at Percy as if he was an interesting new toy.

He swallowed, tightening his hold on Riptide. He didn't uncap it, though: the centaur wasn't overtly threatening – yet – and Percy hoped that meant he'd be able to avoid a confrontation.

"Good evening," he said, "sir," he added as an afterthought, hoping that a little courtesy would go a long way. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at where faint lights from the castle made it through the thick foliage. "I'm a student here at Hogwarts. Name's Percy Jackson."

He offered the centaur his hand – the left one, so he wouldn't have to let go of Riptide. His hard gaze drifted away from Percy's face and down to the proffered limb. Percy swore he saw his dark, calloused hand twitch and relief surged through him. He didn't have the time to savour it: the centaur's hand stilled and an annoyed expression crossed his face.

Percy let his hand fall back to his side, disappointed. "You followed us," he said, deciding to forgo useless pleasantries, "why?"

The centaur stared at him for a moment longer and then looked back over his shoulders at something Percy couldn't see.

His breath caught in his throat as other centaurs, at least ten of them, all bearing ominous-looking bows and quivers full of arrows, stepped out of their hiding places.

"Well, that's nice," he managed to choke out, "did I interrupt your family reunion? Because I can leave. Like, right now. No problems."

The first centaur, evidently the leader of their little expedition, scoffed. "Not so fast, hu–child. Why are you in our Forest?"

Percy didn't miss his slip of tongue: he filed it in his mind. "I needed a bit of fresh air. Didn't think it was forbidden."

A pale, red-haired centaur rolled his eyes. "It's called the _Forbidden_ Forest. Honestly."

Despite the snarky tone, Percy thought he sounded amused. He was far younger than the leader and possibly – _possibly_ – more easily swayed away from a fight. One against eleven were good odds only when you were part of the eleven.

"Danaus," the black centaur said with very little inflection in his voice. His look, on the other hand, was sharp enough to convey his feelings perfectly and the redhead fell silent at once. He bowed his head in what Percy thought might be a sign of submission. "Why are you here, child?" he asked again, a hard edge entering his voice, "What are you looking for in our forest?"

Percy wrestled his heartbeat back under control. His hands felt clammy and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "I'm not looking for anything," he said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt, "a…friend of mine wanted me to meet, er, someone. The Thestrals."

The leader looked at him funnily and then his eyes softened in what might've been pity.

Percy didn't have the time to wonder why: he only knew he could use it to his advantage. He plastered a smile on his face, trying to appear friendly – all the while, his thumb traced the edge of Riptide's cap. "You live here in the Forest?"

The centaur tilted his head forward. "Yes, child. The Forest has been our home for centuries. You can understand, then, why we consider it our duty to protect her the way she protects us."

Dread curled languidly in Percy's stomach. He discreetly moved his right foot slightly back, widening his stance.

"For this reason, we cannot let you go back to your school so easily."

He uncapped Riptide before the word 'go' was out of the centaur's mouth.

The sword sprang to its full length with a sound of flowing water. Its celestial bronze blade glinted fiercely in the faint light of the moon; its bluish glow casted spectral shadows on the trees.

The centaurs thumped their hooves on the ground, but they didn't appear deterred.

Percy heard the unmistakable sound of a bow being drawn somewhere to his right and the redheaded centaur – Danaus – deliberately lifted a hand to his shoulders and plucked an arrow out of his quiver. A fair-haired centaur in the back made a noise of protest and tried to step forward, only for one of his companions to fling an arm out and stop him.

Through it all, Percy kept his eyes firmly fixed on the still nameless leader, knowing he'd ultimately be the one to decree his fate.

"Be careful, boy," he warned, "this is not a battle you can win."

Percy scoffed loudly and adjusted his hold on Riptide. From the way the centaur's eyebrows drew down, he had received his answer loud and clear.

"Very well. You give us no choice."

He raised a hand and two centaurs strode forward, their weapons pointing unerringly at him.

Percy breathed in deeply and the smell of their sweat stung his nose. They were nervous, and that was good: it meant he still had a chance.

The same unnatural calm he always felt during a fight flooded him. His racing heart slowed down to a steady beat and his body automatically moved into a fighting position. His sight sharpened, and though his surroundings were as dark and impenetrable as ever, he could clearly see the outline of every centaur. The Forest went quiet, as if someone had set it on mute – he heard only his own, constant breathing and that far more laboured of the centaurs.

They drew their bows back, slowly, giving him the chance to yield, but Percy only raised his sword, staring at them defiantly, ready to dodge and –

– a voice broke through the stalemate.

"Bane, please, think about it."

Sounds rushed back to his ears and he staggered.

The pale centaur had split off from the herd of warriors. He had white-blonde hair and alarmingly blue eyes. He held his hands up to show that, unlike his brethren, he wasn't armed. Percy didn't know whether that was for his benefit or for the black centaur's, who was staring at the intruder as if he was something particularly nasty that had gotten stuck to one of his hooves.

"I don't remember inviting you on this expedition, Firenze."

If the newly dubbed Firenze was troubled by his leader's – Bane's – dark tone, he didn't show it. He walked forward until he was standing directly in the path of his companions' arrows.

Percy lowered Riptide without a conscious decision, taken aback by the centaur's unexpected move.

"Ronan thought you'd need a…calming presence," he said.

Bane swelled up. His nostrils flared and his neck and face flushed.

Percy detachedly reflected that purposefully picking a fight probably wasn't the best way to help him not get turned into a pincushion by a bunch of angry centaurs.

"Just to avoid useless confrontations, of course," Firenze added hurriedly, before Bane had the time to chew him out, "We don't want Dumbledore coming here to rescue one of his students, do we?"

I do, Percy wanted to say. He'd pick a scolding and a detention from the old man over a fight to the death any day. Unless his mom was notified: in that case, he'd take his chances with the centaurs.

Whispers rose from the herd and Bane's expression soured even more.

"Just say your piece, Firenze," he ordered, with less heat than Percy would've expected, "we don't have all night."

"We don't hurt foals," Firenze said simply, and Percy would've been offended at being called a foal if the centaur wasn't trying to help him, "especially not –" he glanced at Riptide with an expression of mingled curiosity and concern and fell silent. After a moment, he went on, "Our people would be in greater danger were we to hurt this child. You know as well as I do that the Go–"

"Don't!" Bane barked, looking distressed, "Don't talk about this sort of things here. You never know who – or _what_ – might be listening." His long tail swished nervously. "The child needs to come with us. He can cooperate or –" he glared at him, his hand flexing around his bow, "– we can make him."

Percy glared right back and with as much force. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Bane exactly where he could put his bow, Firenze interjected once again.

"I agree."

Bane's head whipped around.

Percy would've enjoyed his dazed expression a lot more if he wasn't so busy gaping at Firenze. "If this is your idea of help," he hissed, "please next time just _shut up_!"

Firenze raised a hand in a placating manner. "I was just trying to avoid a fight. There are twenty of us and only one of you. Bane is right: you can't win."

Percy swallowed around the lump in his throat. Twenty?

A bush behind him rustled and Percy cursed himself under his breath. Chiron always told him he had a bad habit of concentrating on a single opponent during fights and disregarding the whole. He had warned him that allowing himself to get distracted like that would kill him one day.

 _Idiot._

He needed to do better than this.

Firenze slowly moved to his side. "Nothing will happen to you if you follow us of your own free will," he coaxed gently, "You have my word."

Percy chewed on his bottom lip. Riptide was a comforting weight in his hand and he was tempted to just say the hell with all of this and make his way out of the Forest hacking mindlessly.

But…

He was stopped by the heavy, inescapable knowledge that he wasn't good or powerful enough to fight all of them together and make it out alive. Not yet, and maybe he never would be.

He peered up at Firenze. _You have my word_.

Percy prided himself on his ability to read people and there was no trace of deceit in the centaur's blue eyes.

He _really_ didn't want to die fighting people who could very well be allies.

He recapped Riptide. "Fine," he said between clenched teeth, because, _damn it_ , he didn't have to like it, "I'll come with you."

Firenze visibly relaxed. "It's the right choice," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Percy fought the urge to shake it off. He glanced back at the distant edge of the Forest. Hogwarts' lights cut a warm path through the night and Percy wished more than anything to be back inside the school with Luna.

With a sigh, and trying to ignore the centaurs that had just emerged from the shadows behind him, he turned his back on safety and followed Bane into the darkness of the Forest.

/

/

He arrived like a gust of sea breeze, swiftly and unexpectedly, blowing the papers strewn about his desk to the floor.

Chiron closed his book and pushed his long limbs out of his wheelchair. It wouldn't do to remain seated when in the presence of a God. "Lord Poseidon. Welcome."

He made to bow, but a wave of Poseidon's hand stopped him.

"No need for that, brother. I come seeking counsel as an equal."

His stomach sank to his hooves. While they were technically brothers – or half-brothers – Gods never addressed lower beings quite so familiarly unless they needed something done.

And the things Gods couldn't do on their own, rarely were an enjoyable experience.

"Of course, my Lord. Though I fail to see how someone of my station could advise you."

Poseidon rolled his eyes, looking at the same time annoyed and amused, and Chiron was struck by how much his mannerism resembled that of his only demigod child. "Cut it out, Chiron. You know I don't appreciate this level of deference. Unlike my _dear_ brother, I might add."

Laughter came from outside the Big House and shadows darkened his office's only window for a brief moment as the gaggle of cheerful kids walked past it. Even through the flowers-patterned curtains, Chiron recognized both Clarisse, with a bunch of spears hoisted on her shoulders, and Silena, her slim arm in the crook of the taller girl's elbow.

He had had the pleasure of seeing them growing closer in the past few weeks. Silena had been the only one brave enough to approach a hurt Clarisse after Chris Rodriguez had left Camp to supposedly join Kronos' forces and, perhaps somewhat unexpectedly, the daughter of Ares had let herself be comforted. He was glad they had found each other in their moment of need.

Poseidon glanced at them, too, and frowned. With a foreboding creak, the door closed of its own volition.

"I do not wish to be disturbed," Poseidon explained. He waved a hand and a burst of sea mist shook the walls. It creeped up the jug of water Chiron had left on the desk and fogged up the window. When it dispersed, a deep blue throne, seemingly made of swirling water, stood on the other side of the desk. "Sit with me, brother," the God said, throwing himself down on his own seat in a careless manner, "this will take a while."

Chiron resumed his place, trepidation turning his usually flawless movements jittery. In his haste to comply, he almost knocked the wheelchair back against the wall.

"Are you still monitoring Albus Dumbledore's activities?" Poseidon began without preamble.

Chiron took a moment to answer. When he had gone to Olympus to warn the Gods of Dumbledore's visit to both Percy and Kikyou, they hadn't seemed especially worried or even interested, though Apollo had instructed him to keep a closer eye on his young daughter. Poseidon hadn't requested the same for Percy, which confirmed Chiron's suspicions that he was far more present in his son's life than he was strictly allowed to.

As such, his wish to discuss Dumbledore, and the fact he had actually taken the time to visit Camp Half-Blood personally to do it, was startling, to say the least.

Then again, no one had ever accused the Lord of the Sea of being predictable.

"I am," he said, "though, as I told you weeks ago, I do not believe his visit to be cause for concern. He has gone back to his school and I dare say the…situation in his own country will keep him too busy to investigate on other matters. Sirius Black's escape from their horrid prison seems to have thrown England into panic."

"So I have heard," Poseidon murmured distractedly.

Chiron wondered how much of his speech he had heard, or if he had really cared to listen in the first place, and aggravation simmered in the pit of his stomach. He didn't allow it to show on his face: Gods were wont to take umbrage to this sort of thing, Poseidon and his brothers more than most.

"I have never given much thought to that…school," Poseidon said after a moment, putting a peculiar inflection on the word 'school'. Chiron furrowed his brow. "But I took the time to watch in on its activities these past few weeks, ever since –" he waved a hand dismissively.

Ever since Percy was invited to attend, Chiron completed in his mind.

He had assumed the God of the Sea wished to discuss the sudden spike in monster activity and Kronos' stirring, that mentioning Hogwarts and Chiron's own interest in Dumbledore's movements was his way of making small talk, but now he realized Poseidon had something entirely different in mind. He shouldn't have been surprised: Gods weren't so good-mannered as to fake interest in something for the sake of conversation. He guessed you didn't have to when you had the world at your fingertips.

"You seem…troubled, my Lord." He dared to comment.

Poseidon leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his hands. He looked straight at him and Chiron noticed his eyes were as dark as the depths of the lake on turbulent nights. "That place is a nest of murderers and man-eating beasts. Were you aware a creature known as a basilisk was let loose inside its walls less than a year ago? Or that a possessed professor was allowed to teach for a full year with the faculty members none the wiser? Students were almost killed in both instances." Chiron had to admit he hadn't known. While he tried to keep up with the goings on of the world beyond the borders of Camp, Hogwarts was far outside his jurisdiction. Demigods rarely attended and wizards and witches had removed themselves from life in the wider world centuries before. "And Percy is –" Poseidon's mouth twisted in displeasure, as if whatever Percy was, was for him a constant source of worry and vexation, "– a trouble magnet. Can you imagine all the creatures he is bound to attract?"

"Forgive me, my Lord, but…how is that any different from what goes on here at Camp or even in the mortal world? Even taking a stroll through Central Park is a danger to your son. That's the life of a demigod, I fear."

Poseidon's jaw twitched. "I'm well aware of that, Chiron," he said, sounding cross. Chiron bowed his head slightly. It seemed to mollify the God: a sigh reached his ears and then Poseidon said, "I know it may sound hypocritical, but it's not the same. Percy can't control the effect his blood has on monsters. He can only train so he won't be helpless, and that's what Camp is here for. Quests notwithstanding, demigods are safe here. They have _you_ to protect them."

Chiron smiled, feeling complimented despite himself. Seeing his students growing into successful heroes was his greatest pride – which was the reason he had chosen immortality despite the pain of losing his cherished pupils, his very own tribe – but it was rare for a God to openly acknowledge his role in their life.

"I'm glad you think so, Lord Poseidon, but I'm sure Albus Dumbledore is just as invested in his students' safety as I am in mine."

Poseidon snorted, as if the idea of Dumbledore being responsible for someone else's safety was hilarious.

Chiron didn't blame him. Dumbledore's track record, especially in the past few years and especially when it came to Harry Potter, was abysmal. Unlike Poseidon, though, Chiron knew how hard it was to be an educator of children with special powers and how many sacrifices one had to make in order to train a warrior capable of beating a seemingly unbeatable enemy.

They had different approaches – Dumbledore, for all his years, was still a mortal, and he wanted to think children needed to be sheltered and even lied to, while Chiron knew better by now – but he liked to believe the wizard was doing the best he could.

Unfortunately for the old professor, Poseidon was clearly too bitter that his son was now in the middle of it all to care about his reasons.

"And Percy," he added gently, "knows how to take care of himself."

"Of course he does." There was a clear hint of pride in his voice as he said that and Chiron smiled. "Still," he went on, sounding a lot less sure of himself, "he's young and inexperienced. And perhaps a bit…rash," he finished, looking as if it pained him to admit it.

Chiron disguised his chuckle with a badly affected cough. They both knew Percy didn't get his impulsiveness from his mother.

"I'm sure he's being careful."

Poseidon stared at him pityingly. "Perhaps you're confused, brother. I'm talking about my son: black hair, green eyes, kind of short and with the sort of attitude that usually gets demigods killed before their eighteenth birthday. _Of course_ he's not being careful."

Chiron rolled his wheelchair back and forth. "What do you want me to do about it, my Lord? I could talk to him, but I doubt it would do any good."

Poseidon shook his head. "Perseus doesn't like to be told what to do. Your intervention might do more harm than good. I'm just –" his fingers tapped the desk rhythmically, compulsively. "I assured Sally – and Percy, too – he'd be happier at Hogwarts. I'd hate to think I was wrong."

Chiron gripped the armrests tightly. His mouth opened and closed a few times before anything came out. "You _told_ them, my Lord?"

Poseidon narrowed his eyes and the back of Chiron's neck prickled uneasily. "Last time I checked, I was allowed to visit my family, Chiron."

It wasn't entirely true, but Chiron hadn't lived over three thousand – four thousand? – years by pointing out technicalities to hotheaded Gods. "Of course, my Lord. I was simply surprised."

He wasn't lying. Just as Dionysus hid his more compassionate nature, other Gods often buried their real feelings under a harsh and distant façade and Poseidon wasn't an exception. Chiron had learned to read between the lines, to look beyond what was offered to his eyes, but it still caught him off guard to see a God be so openly caring with his mortal family.

His heart gave an unexpected little squeeze and Chiron wondered at his own feelings. Was that pity? He, Percy's trainer, was allowed to show more care for the boy than his own father.

He intertwined his fingers on the desk, sighing deeply. "I'm certain you've nothing to worry about, my Lord," he said in a gentler tone, "Percy will be happier at Hogwarts than he could ever be in a mortal school and his cousin will no doubt help him fit in. As far as him being in danger goes…as I already said –"

"Percy can take care of himself," Poseidon interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand. Chiron fell silent at once. "Yes, I know. He will contact you, I imagine? I wish you to keep me posted."

"Certainly, my Lord. Though I dare say Percy wouldn't mind if you contacted him yourself."

Poseidon grimaced. "You would be wrong." He didn't offer an explanation and Chiron didn't ask for one. Poseidon had clearly just drawn a line over which he was not to step. "There is something else I wish to discuss with you. As you know, Zeus refuses to take action against Kronos' newest right hand –" Chiron's heart skipped a beat, "– but I trust you are aware Luke Castellan won't stop just because we're hiding our heads in the sand."

Chiron sighed heavily. He rubbed his chest, hoping to dispel the muted pain that seemed to have taken permanent residence there. Annabeth and Silena weren't the only ones hurt by Luke's treachery. He had brought up the boy from the age of fourteen, comforted him when the memory of Thalia Grace's death got too much and taught him everything he knew. He had believed he'd grow into a hero worthy of the demigods of old. He didn't understand how he had been so _wrong_.

"No, he won't. If anything, it will spur him to greater cruelty. Children never like being ignored."

Poseidon studied him in silence and Chiron hoped he had picked up on the deeper meaning of his words. He had been blind to Luke's struggle, but he'd be damned if he let it happen again, especially to someone as bright as Percy.

"No, they don't," was the only thing the God said. He got up, smoothing down imaginary creases on his blue and green Hawaiian t-shirt. His throne lost cohesion and tumbled to the floor with a splash. "I spoke to Apollo. He says something is about to happen. He doesn't know what or when, only that it will happen here at Camp."

Chiron scratched his beard, inquietude pooling in his stomach. "We will be ready," he assured, though he was feeling far from prepared. He'd have to tell Clarisse to intensify her training sessions with the new campers and Charles and his siblings would've to strengthen their defensive measures. They couldn't rely on Thalia's pine for everything. They'd need to set up a border patrol, too. Athena's children could do that, even if they were missing their counsellor and possibly their best strategist.

He hastily counted in his mind how many demigods were still at Camp and was dismayed to find they were far from enough: most had gone back home – Annabeth and Percy, probably their best chances at fighting off an attack from Luke, among them – and others…

"See that you are," Poseidon said, "this place must be protected at all costs." They both gazed out of the window, where the valley that was home to Camp Half-Blood stretched for miles under the scorching hot sun. "Talking to you was…helpful," he added, with the tone of someone who found it a great toil, "I shall see you –" he snapped his mouth shut, an incredulous expression crossing his face.

"My Lord?"

Poseidon's lips twitched. "An interesting prayer," he muttered. At Chiron's raised eyebrow, his lips distended into a real smile. "Nothing that concerns you, my old friend. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, my Lord. It was –" Poseidon had vanished into thin air, leaving his farewell hanging awkwardly in the empty room, "– a pleasure talking to you."

He got up from his wheelchair, stretching his now rigid limbs, and walked around the desk. He needed to call a reunion with the oldest campers and put together a plan of defence. Dionysus would need to be consulted, too, even if the idea left a sour taste in his mouth. He knew him too well to think their resident God would be anything but utterly uncooperative.

It was only when his hooves splashed in the unexpected pool of water that he realized Poseidon had not taken the time to clean after himself.

He would bet everything he owned the God had done it on purpose.

/

 **AN:** No Harry's PoV in this chapter. Don't worry, you'll get him in the next one!


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** Hi, guys! I've finally finished the new chapter, as you can see. I bet you thought you were rid of me, but here I am, ready to torment you some more! The chapter is as long as ever, of course. I'm starting to suspect my style might be a bit… _verbose_. What do you think?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think about it if you have got the time!

Thank you to all of you!

 **Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, it's not mine.

/

 **Chapter eleven – In which an adventure beckons our heroes and the night is full of secrets**

Hermione added one more tome to the growing pile in his arms and Harry stifled a sneeze as the dust collected on its cover over the years flew in his face.

"Do you really need all these books, Hermione? Term just started."

"Of course I do!" she said in a loud whisper.

Her hair looked frizzier than ever. Black ink stained the tips of her fingers and she sported a big smudge on her cheek, as if she had scratched herself with a dirty hand. Though he couldn't see them from behind the tower of books, he knew there were similar dark flecks on her white shirt.

"Professor Vector gave us a three-foot long essay on the origins and use of Arithmancy from Ancient Greece to modern times. And I need to consult a book on Animagi to write the essay for McGonagall."

Harry rolled his eyes, stumbling behind her as she walked by the shelves, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books. "You need to drop a subject or two. It's been barely a week and you're already stressed out by the workload."

Hermione levelled a hard stare at him. "I'm not going to drop _anything_. Arithmancy is far too fascinating and I absolutely love Runes and –"

"What about Divination, then?" he interjected, "Trelawney is a fraud, anyway – you said so yourself. Or Muggle Studies. It's not like you need someone to teach you about muggles."

"I need them for my career!" she protested, removing another book from its shelf. She cracked open the cover and studied the table of contents with an intense look on her face.

"Clearly," Harry muttered under his breath. Then, in a louder voice, he added, "What career would that be?"

"I don't know yet." She put the book back in its place, for which Harry was grateful. His arms already felt weak under the strain. "That's why I need to take as many OLWs as possible. Anything could prove useful in the long run!"

They rounded the corner and their table came into view. Ron was half-heartedly working on his essay, his head lolling forward every few seconds, but he looked up when Harry dumped his load on the desk.

"Was starting to think you'd gotten lost." He yawned hugely, carelessly dropping his quill: it fell on his essay, spraying ink all over it. "Those are quite a lot of books. Do you really need them all?"

Hermione huffed, shoving tome after tome into her leather bag.

"I asked her the same thing," Harry said, smoothing the creases out of his own disjointed and messy essay on Boggarts. He didn't actually plan to present it to Lupin, of course: the last thing he needed was for the professor to think he was unable to even complete his homework satisfactorily, since he already seemed convinced he was too weak to face his fears. It was just a draft.

"I just think it's best to be prepared," she said, trying to push one last book in the bag. One of the stitches in the seam popped out.

"Whatever." Ron shrugged. "You won't last until the end of the year."

Hermione glared at him, but Harry distracted her by tugging the book out of her hands. "This one's mine," he said, waving it in front of her face.

Ron followed the motion with his eyes, looking worried. "You're not turning into another Hermione, are you? One is more than enough."

"Real funny, Ronald," she said, swinging her bag on her shoulder, "but you have nothing to worry about: I have given up hope of you two ever paying attention to your studies!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "There is a difference between 'paying attention' and 'being obsessed', you know?"

Hermione flushed. "I'm not –"

"We should leave," Harry interrupted loudly, "before Madam Pince comes to kick us out."

Both his friends glanced at the desk by the door, where the stern librarian was just putting the final touches to an official-looking document. It wouldn't be long before she started her last patrol of the day and Harry wanted to be far away from there when it happened, especially as the couple he and Hermione had caught making out behind a shadowed shelf had yet to leave. He didn't want to be an innocent victim of the crossfire.

"Harry is right," Hermione said, sounding calmer, "Let's go."

They waited for Ron to gather his parchment and quills and then slipped out of the door just as Madam Pince disappeared behind the first shelf.

"What's that book, then?" Ron asked once they were a corridor away from the library. Though curfew was still an hour away, he spoke in soft tones, possibly leery of alerting the few students still about of their presence. He raised an eyebrow when Harry showed him the title. " _Greatest Dark Wizards and Witches of the Twentieth Century._ Is there something you wish to tell us?"

Harry raised his eyes heavenward. "Yes, Ron, I've been so deeply _impressed_ by the dark wizards I have met in the course of my life that I have decided to follow in their footsteps. What do you think?"

Ron raised his hands. "No need to get touchy, mate."

Harry sighed, feeling a bit guilty. He was still in a foul mood thanks to Snape and, in part, Lupin and his boggart, but taking it out on his friends probably wouldn't make him feel better. "I just thought there'd be something about Black in it. He's a dark wizard, after all. I was thinking about what Malfoy said in –" he bristled when he saw the loaded look Ron and Hermione exchanged. "What? I have the right to know –"

"I'm not saying you don't, Harry," Hermione placated, "but…are you honestly going to trust something Malfoy, of all people, told you?"

"She's right, mate," Ron said, looking perturbed, "He just wanted to get a rise out of you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that. You think I'm stupid? He just made me realize I really don't know anything about Black. Malfoy's father supported Voldemort – Oh, stop that, will you?" he rolled his eyes at Ron's and Hermione's over-the-top reactions, "Listen, I just think it's worth a try. Malfoy _could_ know something no one has told me about Black. Wouldn't be the first time I'm kept out of the loop," he finished bitterly.

They fell silent as they crossed path with a group of prefects discussing patrol rounds. The older students stared at them suspiciously, with the exception of a tall, dark-haired boy Harry vaguely recognized as a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and who waved at him in a friendly manner. Harry responded in kind, ignoring his companions. He was used to it: rumours flew at Hogwarts and most students had at least a vague idea of what the three of them had gotten up to during their first two years of school, even if Dumbledore had tried to keep it under wraps.

"I understand, Harry," Hermione said once they were out of earshot, "Just promise me you won't do anything you'll regret."

"The only thing I'll regret doing is reading a history book outside of class," he said drily. Ron laughed. "Really, Hermione. I simply want to know why Malfoy seems to think I should be out there looking for Black. Nothing more."

Hermione didn't seem appeased, but she let Ron move the conversation to his essay on Boggarts, which led to one more re-enactment of his fight against the fake-spider.

Harry smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but his mind was miles away. His friends might not agree, but he knew Malfoy enough to suspect he hadn't been lying. Whatever Black had done, it was serious enough that he thought Harry would willingly risk his life to apprehend him on his own.

There was a lively atmosphere in the Common Room when they got there.

Unlike Hermione, most of their housemates seemed convinced it was too early in the school term to do anything more productive than gossiping loudly about the latest break-up or exchanging chocolate frog cards with their friends.

The twins had grouped a number of couches in a corner and they were showing a bunch of mystified first-years something Harry could not see. Whatever it was, it popped unexpectedly, showering the children in pink and purple sparks. They shrieked in surprise.

Parvati and Lavender had taken over the table to the twins' right and they were noisily giggling behind the glossy cover of a Witch Weekly magazine, which earned them Hermione's scornful glares.

"Honestly," she huffed, "You'd think they'd spend their time more productively than squealing over clothes and boys."

Ron caught Harry's eye and they shared a grin behind Hermione's back: they still remembered her obsession with Lockhart, even if the girl herself seemed determined to forget about it.

"Harry!" came a loud voice from the other side of the room.

Harry turned around. He individuated Neville at once. The other boy sat at a table not far from the hearth, a sheet of parchment spread open in front of him. Seamus and Dean occupied the remaining two seats. They were building a tower out of Exploding Snap cards: already, it stood taller than their heads and Harry estimated it wouldn't be long before it exploded and crumbled.

"Let's join them," Ron said, staring at the construction keenly.

Harry followed him, scanning the circular room. He had thought his cousin would be with their roommates, but he was nowhere to be found.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked him.

He glanced at the portrait of the Fat Lady, scratching the back of his head. "Percy isn't here."

Ron looked at them over his shoulder. "Maybe he's sleeping."

"Or maybe," Hermione said, a slight hiss entering her tone, "you shouldn't have let him come back alone."

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing an empty chair from a nearby table. "You can't expect me to follow him everywhere, Hermione."

Seamus made space for him without raising his eyes from the cards in his hands. "Follow who everywhere?"

"Percy," Ron answered, settling himself between Dean and Neville, "He didn't stay for dinner and now Hermione thinks we're heartless jerks for not worrying."

She sniffled, pulling _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ out of her bag, obviously intending to study.

"That's because you are," she sentenced before disappearing behind her book.

Harry briefly entertained the idea of doing the same – he could work on his sloppy Defence essay or start on the research on the uses of mandrake roots in potions for Snape, something that was probably going to take him _days_ to finish – but then he remembered that, unlike Hermione, he and Ron had taken their bags up to the dormitory before dinner and he felt too lazy to go get it now. He eyed _Greatest Dark Wizards and Witches of the Twentieth Century_ contemplatively, but in the end decided the mystery could wait until he was more awake.

Dean sniggered. "She's got you there, mate." He carefully placed another card on top of the tower and they all waited with bated breath to see whether it would explode. Nothing happened. "I'm sure your cousin is okay, anyway," Dean said as he waited for Seamus to make his move, "I doubt he has been kidnapped on the way here from the Great Hall."

Harry, who had seen worst things happen in much shorter distances, couldn't find it in himself to be as certain of it. "You saw him when you came back from dinner, right?"

Dean and Seamus sneaked a look at each other over the edge of their cards.

"What?" Harry said, "You didn't?"

"Well," Seamus began hesitatingly, "not exactly. We didn't go upstairs. Maybe he's in bed."

Yeah, he was definitely regretting leaving Percy alone now.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Should I go check on him?"

Ron snorted, peering at Neville's essay over the other boy's shoulder. "Let him be: you can mother him tomorrow if it makes you feel better."

He winced when Harry kicked him under the table.

"I don't _mother_ anyone," he said stiffly.

"Ron's right," interjected Hermione, her face still hidden behind the heavy book, "not about your mothering tendencies, of course, Harry –" Ron sniggered and Harry kicked him again, "– but about Percy. Promise me you'll talk to him tomorrow, though. He really needs to do his homework _and_ he could be lonely."

Harry rolled his eyes, smothering the tiny voice at the back of his mind that insisted she was right. "Percy doesn't need a baby-sitter, Hermione."

Despite his words, he inwardly resolved to do better. He really hadn't spent enough time with Percy since they got to Hogwarts, even though he had promised himself he'd help make him feel welcome.

"Er, guys?"

They faced Neville as one and the boy went red as a tomato, as he always did when he found himself the object of the attention of other people.

"It's just that…umh…" He tapped the inky point of his quill against the table in a nervous manner. "Percy isn't in the dormitory."

Harry's stomach sank to his feet. "What?"

Neville took a deep breath. "Percy isn't in the dormitory," he repeated slowly. His voice shook, as if he thought being the harbinger of the bad news would automatically make him guilty of it.

"Are you –?"

A small explosion cut him off. A cloud of sickly green smoke enveloped their table; its rancid smell assaulted Harry's senses. He pressed the sleeve of his button-up against his face, his breath cut short.

"Sorry, sorry!" said a raspy voice he recognized as Seamus', barely audible above the choked coughs of the table's other occupants. "I forgot I was – no matter, sorry." He pulled a hand back into the large sleeve of his robe and used it to push the smoking, sizzling remnants of a card off the table, careful not to touch it with his bare skin.

Harry ignored his apology. "Are you sure he wasn't there, Neville?" he asked, squinting at the other boy through the smoke, "Maybe he was in the bathroom."

Neville shrugged apologetically. "I don't think so. I stayed up for a few minutes and he didn't come out. I didn't hear anything either."

Ron and Hermione exchanged grim looks.

He wondered if they felt as nauseous as he did.

If Percy wasn't in the dormitory, he could be _anywhere._ He could've gotten lost in the maze that was Hogwarts. He could've been caught 'loitering', as Filch liked to say, by a professor – by _Snape_. It was a disaster.

If McGonagall didn't kill him, then Sally would for sure (and she'd kill Harry, too).

"Wait." Seamus' eyes slid from Harry's face to Ron's and to Hermione's and then back again. "You guys aren't joking. You really don't know where he is."

Ron gave him a withering look. "Jokes were supposed to be funny last time I checked."

Seamus shrugged. "Yeah, well, yours rarely are."

Ron nodded absently and then his brain seemed to catch up with his other senses. His ears flamed up. "Hey!"

"Guys, please." Harry rubbed his right temple – a headache had sneaked up on him. He turned to Ron and Hermione. "What do we do?"

"Go look for him?" Ron suggested, "I mean –" he glanced at Harry's arm: his sleeve had ridden up, exposing his watch, "–it's only a few minutes until curfew. Maybe we should take the –" he glanced meaningfully at the stairs.

Harry understood at once. The Invisibility Cloak that had once been his father's, the faithful enabler of most of their illicit adventures, would allow them to look for Percy far longer, undisturbed and hopefully unpunished.

He looked at Hermione. "Are you in?"

"I really don't know," she said, wringing her hands, "Oh, it's all my fault. If we had come back here soon after dinner instead of stopping by the library then maybe…but _no,_ I just had to have that book for McGonagall's essay, didn't I?"

Seamus' head snapped up. "Essay? We had an essay for McGonagall? What –?" he yelped suddenly, turning around to glare at Dean. "No need to kick me, mate," he grouched, leaning down to massage his ankle.

"You know what? It doesn't matter whose fault it is," Harry decreed impatiently, "Let's go look for him. If something happened…" he trailed off.

"What could've happened?" Dean asked, "Hogwarts is a school!"

A school where half a dozen people were petrified just a few months ago, the cynical part of Harry thought.

"W-what if he met Malfoy?" Neville said hesitantly, "After what Percy told him before the feast…"

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, they didn't exactly hit it off. Can't blame Percy – Malfoy's a git."

Seamus shook his head. "He's too busy faking an injury to do anything."

 _But Malfoy doesn't need to do anything. Not when he has Crabbe and Goyle at his beck and call_ , Harry's mind supplied unhelpfully.

Anxiety shot through him, making his fingers go cold. He pushed himself to his feet, swallowing with difficulty. He was vaguely surprised, and thankful, when Hermione did the same with not even a moment of hesitation.

Her next words were quick to dispel any feeling of gratitude.

"I really don't think this is a good idea, Harry," she muttered, low enough to exclude the other boys from the conversation. Harry saw Dean lean forward slightly, trying to eavesdrop. "We'll be in even more trouble if we're caught with him. We should call McGonagall and tell her he got lost."

Ron got up too. "New student or not, she'll take away points, Hermione. You know that. I say we go look for him ourselves."

Harry nodded, thinking that option was far more to his liking.

Hermione scoffed. "You just can't wait for an excuse to break rules, Ronald. We wouldn't even know where to start. He could be anywhere!"

"We last saw him by the Great Hall," Ron pointed out, "We could start from there and try to retrace his steps!"

"Oh, yeah?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "In which direction?"

"Er, guys?" Seamus swiftly inserted himself in the conversation, eyeing Hermione's discarded bag hopefully, and Harry didn't know whether to thank him for putting a stop to what would've been an epic fight or jinx him for his untimely interruption. "While you go looking for him, do you mind if I –?"

A stern voice interrupted him. "Go looking for whom, exactly?"

Harry swirled around, feeling as if his insides were being squeezed. Percy Weasley was staring down at them from the top of his long, thin nose, looking positively disgruntled. Seamus yanked the book out of a protesting Neville's hands and hid his face behind it.

"And where?" the Head-boy added.

Ron rolled his eyes. "None of your business, Perce. Go bother the first-years."

Harry cringed – he knew the older Weasley well enough to know that was the wrong approach. Unfortunately, Ron could never be anything but confrontational with his brothers, especially this one.

Percy's eyes narrowed behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "I would, if they were half as badly-behaved and irresponsible as _you_ are." Harry clasped Ron's wrist firmly, shaking his head. Ron glanced at him and deflated. "You remember what Mother told you, I trust?" Percy asked with a sigh, "No troubles from the three of you this year. No more going out after curfew; no more meddling in things that do not concern you; no more… _adventures_. It is especially dangerous considering –" he glanced at Harry, "– the presence of dementors," he finished, evidently believing he had been subtle enough. "She told me to make sure you toed the line and I plan on following her instructions to a 't', if you will."

Ron opened his mouth, outraged, possibly about to insult his brother so badly they'd never be allowed out of his sight again, but Percy ploughed on relentlessly.

"Hermione, I expected better from you." He shook his head, looking supremely disappointed, and Hermione flushed. "You're not letting my brother lead you astray, are you?"

Ron spluttered indignantly.

"N-no," she stuttered, "In fact, I was just – I mean, we were just, er –" her eyes flitted around the room beseechingly; they settled on the pile of books obscuring Colin Creevey's tired face and she brightened. "Books!" she said, "Harry and Ron left theirs up in the dormitory and –"

"– and we really need to study!" Harry jumped in.

Percy looked like he believed that about as much as Harry himself did. "We're less than a week into the term. I've never seen the two of you, especially _you_ –" he pointed at Ron, who was appearing a little baffled by this point, "– study unless it's finals week." Harry thought that was unfair: he might not be as obsessed with studying as Hermione or Percy himself, but he still tried to do his best in school, all things considered. "What's really going on?"

Harry's left eye twitched. "Nothing, really," he lied through clenched teeth, still smarting from the older boy's insinuations. "We just want to do better this year."

"Yeah, Perce," Ron said and Harry thanked every divinity known to man he had stopped gawking at them like an idiot and was actually helping, "you're always going on about how Ginny and I should be more like you and less like the twins. You should be happy Hermione is forcing –" Hermione glared at him, "– _spurring_ us to, er, study harder."

Percy seemed torn, his wary gaze moving from one wide-eyed face to the other. He evidently wanted to believe that his insistence was actually yielding the expected results, while the rational part of him was probably urging him not to trust anything that came out of their mouths. Harry wondered if it was a by-product of growing up with Fred and George.

Just when Harry thought they had him, a sudden intuition brightened his gaze. His eyes swept the Common Room, his lips twitching thoughtfully, and Harry's stomach dropped to his knees.

Percy's eyes widened triumphantly. "Where is your cousin, Harry?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry had to hand it to him: he was a better actor than he had thought. The twins were probably to blame for that, too.

He inhaled sharply. "Upstairs," he said before he could think about it, "He's upstairs."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both Ron and Hermione nod enthusiastically.

"Upstairs, eh?" Percy deliberately glanced at the stairs. "Maybe I should go check on him then."

Harry's expression froze. "Wait!" he exclaimed loudly before Percy could take more than a step towards the stairs.

The older boy swirled around and stared at him expectantly. "Yes, Harry? Is there something I should know?"

 _Nothing I'm particularly keen on telling you_ , Harry thought. "Well, er, it's just that, er –" he looked at Ron and Hermione, hoping for a useful input that didn't come. "You see, he's –"

"Not feeling well," a feminine voice said suddenly, sounding certain beyond doubt. Harry's head whipped around: Ginny was standing by Hermione, looking as if she had been there the whole time. "He had a terrible headache. Didn't even come to dinner, right guys?" she gazed up at them, her brown eyes impossibly wide.

A sort of admiration he had never before felt for Ron's little sister bubbled up in him.

It was difficult to believe this girl brazenly lying to her older, stuffy brother was the same one that usually couldn't even string two words together if Harry was in the same room.

Ron got the hint. "Yeah, he was worried he might've a fever. Said he wanted to rest."

Percy frowned. Now that Ginny had intervened, he didn't seem as inclined to distrust them. "Maybe we should take him to the infirmary."

"Oh, no," said Hermione, "I'm sure he just needs a bit of sleep."

"She's right, mate," Seamus piped up. Harry rolled his eyes: he should've known they'd listen to the whole conversation. "He was sleeping like the dead when Neville went upstairs. Wasn't he, Nev?" Neville stuttered something none of them heard, looking flustered at having been put on the spot. "See? There's no reason to disturb him."

Percy sighed. "Very well, but I want to know if he gets worse, okay? Mother would be displeased if she knew we didn't do anything to help him. And you three –" he wagged a finger, "–are going straight upstairs. I don't want to see you laze about, is that clear?"

They all nodded and Percy re-joined his classmates after one last warning look.

Harry drew a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was close," Hermione commented under her breath.

Harry hummed. He turned to Ginny with a smile. "Thank you. I don't think he'd have believed us without your help."

The girl blushed furiously and shrugged, not meeting his eyes. Harry was a bit disheartened to see her revert to her painfully shy and awkward behaviour.

"It was nothing," she whispered.

"What are we going to do about your cousin?" Ron asked, "We can still sneak out if we use the –" he glanced at Ginny, "– you know what."

Harry was grateful for his discretion. Admiration or not, there were things he didn't want getting out. "We are going," he decided, ignoring Hermione's disgruntled expression, "We'll go back to the Great Hall. If we are lucky, we'll meet him along the way. If not –" he grimaced, "– well, we'll make do." He glanced at Hermione defiantly. "What about you?"

She bit her lip. "Oh, you're terrible! Of course I'll come. I can't leave you two alone, can I?"

"Good," Harry said, "We'll wait for the Common Room to empty a bit and then we'll go."

/

/

Percy was just beginning to wonder how far from Hogwarts they planned to take him when Firenze announced, in a grave voice, "We are here."

He thought they had been walking for almost an hour by then, but he couldn't be sure. He never wore a watch and the thick foliage hid the stars and moon from sight, so he couldn't rely on his limited knowledge of their movements either.

He had tried to keep track of the places they passed, in case he needed to make a run for it and get back on his own, but they seemed to possess no distinguishing details to set them apart. It was all trees, trees, shrubs, trees, _oh, a puddle, how very helpful_.

The only thing he remembered for sure was the fairly deep stream they had had to wade through – so perhaps his sense of direction was horribly skewed, but at least he knew a weapon when he saw one.

The centaurs made him stop in front of a large cluster of weeping willows. They weren't as tall or as majestic as the ancient-looking trees he had gotten used to since setting foot in the forest, but their dangling branches and whispering leaves created a mysterious and foreboding atmosphere pines and beeches just couldn't hope to achieve.

"You're going to meet our leader," Bane said. The dark-skinned centaur had left the lead of the group sometime during their trek to walk by them, always keeping just a few steps ahead of Firenze. Percy had seen enough posturing from arrogant demigods to recognize what Bane was doing and he found it mildly amusing. "His name is Magorian and I expect you to show him the utmost respect."

He gave him a hard, probing stare. Percy kept his expression carefully blank: there was no reason to risk losing Firenze's flimsy support by openly antagonizing his leader.

Yet.

Apparently assured of his compliance, Bane motioned with his head to Firenze, who moved forward, pulling Percy along. They went through the prickly green wall – he brushed aside the coarse leaves scratching his cheeks, forehead and nose – and exited on a clearing, rather smaller than the one the Thestrals had claimed as their own.

Possibly the first thing Percy noticed about it, aside from its size, was that it was completely devoid of any sign of life. The leaves on the ground looked mostly undisturbed and there wasn't any building that could offer shelter to a centaur, let alone a herd of them. Even birds and other small animals seemed to avoid it, which Percy found strange.

Though he wasn't surprised they hadn't taken him to their village, he still felt a peculiar sinking sensation in his stomach. Despite the worry and the fear, he had been curious to see where they lived.

Firenze squeezed his shoulder gently, pointing at a lone tree stump standing forlornly off to a side. "Wait for us here," he said, "we shall come back with our leader."

"You, too, right?" Percy asked, painfully conscious of the suspicious looks the rest of the herd was still giving him, "You'll come back, too?"

Firenze's smile was sympathetic. "Don't fret. I won't leave you to deal with Bane on your own. The gods know I wouldn't wish that fate on my worst enemy."

Percy snorted with laughter and glanced at the centaur in question. He was standing by the dangling branches, deep in conversations with two other members of the herd. Even from that distance, Percy would've had to be blind to miss the dark scowl etched on his wide face.

Yeah, being left alone with the possibly murderous Bane wasn't high on his list of things to do and though he trusted Firenze about as far as he could throw him, he was the only one who hadn't been openly aggressive towards him and Percy would take what he could get.

"Your leader," he said, turning back to Firenze, "is he as _welcoming_ as Bane?"

A flinty look entered Firenze's eyes. "Magorian is…rather strict, for sure, but he's fair, too. I don't always agree with him, or with his methods, but I know he wants what's best for our people. Just do me a favour and remember to be polite." He gave him a pointed look. "You _are_ capable of being polite, aren't you?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Not when I'm being threatened with pointy weapons."

Firenze sighed. "Fair enough. I _did_ tell Bane there was no need to be so aggressive." He shook his head and Percy got the impression he was rather used to having his advice be dismissed. "But don't judge him too harshly, young human. Too often has the race of wizards threatened our way of life and our very existence. It has made my brethren suspicious of you."

Percy swallowed his instinctive defence of wizard-kind – just because Harry and his friends seemed cool and open-minded, it didn't mean they all were. He certainly didn't know enough of their history to understand what had gone wrong between centaurs and wizards, much less to judge which party was in the right.

He guessed he could kind of see where Firenze was coming from: hadn't the Greek world been pushed into hiding by the mortal one, after all? However, while demigods were free to keep living among humans if they so wished, centaurs didn't seem to have been afforded the same courtesy by wizards.

For this reason, even if he didn't like the way Firenze's herd had treated him, he conceded, "I guess I can try to be a bit more cooperative."

"We can only hope," Bane said.

Percy turned around, thinking that for a creature endowed with hooves, Bane could certainly move in a freakishly silent way, and he noticed with some modicum of relief that his scowl had lessened somewhat and that his bow was back on his shoulders.

"Danaus will remain here with you, young human," he said with a nod in Danaus' direction. The younger centaur raised his bow in salutation, grinning at Percy as if they were buddies. "Don't make me regret it. Either of you," he added as Danaus trotted over.

He rolled his eyes. "I think I can subdue one measly human if the need arises, Bane."

Percy's hand twitched in response, as if longing to reach for Riptide. "Why don't you try?" _Asshole,_ he added in his mind.

"I'm quite certain that's not what Bane meant," Firenze quickly interjected, pulling Percy back against his side.

"It wasn't," Bane said, "Just behave. Firenze, let's go. Magorian will be wondering what's taking us so long."

/

By the time Firenze came back _,_ Percy was maybe a few seconds away from murdering Danaus, consequences be damned.

In the thirty minutes they had been alone, he had managed to get on Percy's nerves like no one ever before. The young centaur was as excitable as Grover on enchilada day and about half as funny as Annabeth had been when they first met, which was saying something.

He also happened to have troubling opinions about humans and no problem sharing them.

As such, it was a relief when his unofficial advocate reappeared from behind the willows' branches.

Most of their original group had been left behind; only Bane and two new centaurs accompanied Firenze. One of them was red-haired and bearded, with a horse's chestnut body. Percy thought he looked older than his brethren: deep wrinkles mapped his weathered face, as if his skin was so used to frowning it had finally gotten stuck that way, and his hair and beard were streaked with grey, the former beginning to turn pale orange with age. In a different situation, with different people, Percy would've been fooled into thinking he was their leader, but two things pointed him in the right direction. The first was that, despite his sturdy built, he didn't possess the looks of a warrior, but rather of someone committed to a life of study.

The second was the other unknown centaur.

He walked at the forefront of the little group, straight-backed and imposing.

The scars were the first thing Percy noticed about him. Thick and white, they crisscrossed every exposed inch of his otherwise smooth dark skin.

Percy was torn between horror and admiration at the sight. At Camp Half-Blood, only those who had distinguished themselves in battle could hold the title of leader. Judging from the leader's – Magorian's – proudly displayed scars, the same ideology ruled centaurs' society, which meant he was the very best in a people of warriors.

It surprised him – he had always imagined Chiron to be a good example of his race, but both Bane and Magorian certainly disproved that theory.

Magorian's expression wasn't as removed as his second-in-command's. He seemed as curious about Percy as Percy was about them and he made no secret of that. His dark eyes studied him keenly, as if he had never seen something quite like him before, and in his gaze there was a hungry glint that Percy didn't like one bit.

He circled his tree stump a few times before coming to a stop directly in front of him, motioning to the other centaurs to stand back. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Firenze paw the ground nervously.

"So, you're the demigod," Magorian said, tilting his head to a side. A waterfall of small braids fell over his shoulder. "You look…very human. Not at all like I imagined you."

Percy fidgeted on his tree stump. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say or even if Magorian expected an answer at all. 'Sorry, I'll try to look more godly next time'?

He glanced at Firenze, but all the blond centaur had to offer was a subtle, and entirely useless, warning look. If he survived this ordeal, Percy would be sure to tell him his definition of 'help' needed a serious revision.

"We saw of your arrival in the stars, godling," Magorian went on, clasping his hands behind his back. If he had noticed Percy and Firenze's silent conversation, he wasn't bothered by it. "Though some of us were sceptical." His gaze flickered to Bane, who kicked at the ground, carefully avoiding his leader's eyes. The older, red-haired centaur scoffed loudly. "Well, sometimes even our eyes are too concerned with the mundane to appreciate the truth that can be found only in the skies."

Percy's eyebrows twitched upwards and he quickly schooled his expression into one of polite indifference. He thought Bane had the right idea: he wouldn't place too much stock in what the skies told him, not unless Zeus himself sent him a signed message from Olympus.

"If you foresaw I'd be coming to Hogwarts," he said dubiously, "why the need for this welcoming party?" He waved around at the assembled centaurs. "You know who I am. You know I mean you no harm. Just let me –"

"Do we?" interrupted the red-haired centaur, "Do we really know you mean our people no harm?" He took a step forward, relieving Magorian of his position at the centre of the group. "Dark times await us, child. Both our worlds are about to experience turmoil the like of which hasn't been seen in many years. We cannot afford to be generous with our trust, especially when faced with someone of your blood."

Percy frowned. "You can't trust me because of who I am?"

The centaur stared at him piercingly. "We cannot trust you because of who your _father_ is."

Goosebumps raced up Percy's arms. If there was one thing he had learnt since becoming part of the mythological world, it was that this kind of conversation could never end well for him.

"How do you know who my father is?" he asked, "How do you even know my _father_ is a god, and not my mother?" he was at once reminded of his first proper conversation with Annabeth and he added, "That's pretty sexist of you, guys."

Magorian shook his head, smiling, and Percy felt any hope he had of derailing the conversation deflate. "As I already said, godling, there's little the stars can't tell you, if you know what to look for. It was especially easy for us to divine your parentage. Do you know why that is?"

Percy numbly shook his head. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably and he wondered whether he'd need that escape plan, after all.

"Your name, like your cousin's, shines brightly in the stars and so does your future," Magorian said, "You have an important role to fulfil in this life, whether on the side of Olympus or the Titans, we yet do not know. Maybe you do not know either. That's why, as Ronan rightly said, we cannot afford to trust you: the stars have told us nothing of your true intentions."

Percy bristled. That was exactly what he had suspected and feared, but he wasn't going to sit there and let them insult him, not even if it made his already delicate situation worse. "My only _intention_ ," he said firmly, "is to learn magic, possibly without getting expelled before the end of the year." Not that he was having much luck respecting rules. "I didn't even know you guys lived here! And even if I did," he added, "it wouldn't have changed anything. I'm _not_ helping Kronos." Unease visibly spread across the group of centaurs. They pawed the ground restlessly, grumbling darkly amongst themselves; the sound of swishing tails filled the air. Percy ignored it all. "Gods, I risked my life only weeks ago to stop his plans and save Olympus!"

Okay, mostly to save his mom, but a small part of him had been thinking about Olympus, too. Honest.

At the back of the group, Bane and Danaus leaned closer, muttering. Percy couldn't discern what they were saying, but judging from the harsh glare Firenze aimed at them, it was nothing nice. Bane already hated him, of course, because he was just that much of an asshole, but he had no idea what Danaus' deal was.

"Perhaps you truly do not intend to help him now," the red-haired centaur – Ronan – said and silence fell back on the clearing, "perhaps your denial is sincere. But can you assure us you won't change your mind a few years from now? How can we know you won't become a danger for our people?"

Percy got up from the stump, looking straight at him. "I'm not stupid enough to think whatever _he_ intends to do would improve life for us demigods. My loyalty –" _The Gods do not deserve your loyalty_. He faltered. "I'm as loyal to my people as you're to yours."

Ronan cocked his head to the side. "I don't think you even know who your people are," he said lightly, "Yet," he added more forcefully when Percy opened his mouth to protest. It was a good thing, because he wasn't sure what would've come out. "Then again, no child ever does." He turned to Magorian. "We have no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt." Something heavy lifted from Percy's chest; he took a deep, liberating breath. "He hasn't done anything to warrant our retaliation. Even if we were wrong, there would be nothing we could do."

Magorian sighed. "Not the foal thing again, Ronan," he said imploringly.

Ronan looked miffed. It was the most human expression Percy had seen him wear all night. "Might I remind you that the protection of children of every race stands at the very foundation of our –"

"Yes, yes, of course," Magorian cut him off quickly. Percy got the impression he had heard that very same spiel many times before and had no wish to hear it again. "We'll let him go, don't worry."

Firenze made to take a step forward, glancing inquisitively at his leader, but a hard look from Magorian made him fall back in line with Bane. "I just meant to say," he began warily, "that I believed letting him go was the plan from the start. Otherwise I –" he ground to a stop, looking like a man who knew he had said too much.

Bane smiled coldly. "What, Firenze? Would you have let him ride on your back the way you did with his cousin?"

Percy frowned. That was the second time they mentioned Harry in just a few minutes and always with familiarity. "You helped Harry?" Firenze nodded and Percy's estimation of him rose once again. He couldn't be annoyed with someone who had helped a member of his family, especially as it seemed he had done it in spite of his people's – or maybe just Bane's – anger. "When? What happened?"

Magorian didn't let Firenze answer. "It's a long story and not one we are about to get into now."

Which meant they didn't want him to know. No matter, he'd ask Harry one of these days and find out exactly what Magorian was hoping to hide.

"You have nothing to worry about, Firenze," Magorian continued, "Your cooperation did not endanger the child in any way. No one can interfere with a prophecy, not even us. We can just wait and hope it will work out in our favour."

He couldn't quite hide a grimace at the thought.

It was the sort of expression Percy had seen on many a camper after he had been claimed and even, for a brief moment, on his own father. It was so nice to be _trusted_ , he thought moodily.

"There are a few conditions, of course. You are not to set foot in the forest ever again – unless it's a matter of life or death, in which case you'll be excused. Not many monsters roam these lands, but should one be attracted by your presence, you'll be allowed to follow it into our territory." Magorian frowned and then corrected himself, "In fact, you'll be _expected_ to deal with it. I won't have my people put in danger just because some hellish beast thinks you'd make for a delicious snack."

Percy's jaw clenched. He entertained the idea of making a hand gesture the centaur couldn't possibly mistake, but then decided he wasn't rude enough for that. He hadn't been raised in a barn, after all.

"That's our second condition. The third is that you may not talk of this conversation with any wizard. I do not care what you choose to tell your fellow demigods or your trainer, but we're aware of the relation that bonds you and Harry Potter and also of his… _penchant_ for breaching your school's rules. We don't wish to give him another excuse to visit our forest, thinking there won't be consequences."

Ronan cleared his throat loudly, levelling a pointed look at the other centaur.

Magorian's left eye twitched.

"Not that we would hurt him, of course. He is a…foal," he spit out the word as if it were the disgusting aftertaste of a particularly stodgy meal.

Percy grinned.

The conditions Magorian had set were really quite easy to respect, especially as he had no wish to find himself in such a situation ever again. There was only one thing that gave him pause. He bit his lip, wondering whether it was a good idea to bring it up. He didn't want to get back on Magorian's bad side so soon, but he had made a promise…

"Er, about that 'don't set foot in our forest ever again' thing," he began slowly, "I kind of promised the Thestrals that I would, you know, visit. Would that be, er, possible?"

Magorian raised his eyes skyward, mumbling something under his breath. Percy suspected he was asking for the patience to deal with him without committing murder. His mom did it often.

"We could allow him to," Firenze said, "As long as he doesn't leave their territory, of course," he quickly added upon noticing Magorian's exasperated expression, "He made a promise, after all."

"Very well," Magorian conceded with a defeated sigh. He then seemed to realize something and brightened up considerably. "Firenze will make sure you respect these rules when you visit. Is that _agreeable_ , Firenze?"

If Magorian thought he was doing a disservice to the blonde centaur, he was wrong.

Firenze bowed in a deferent manner, but he couldn't quite hide his smile. "I shall do it."

Well, at least _someone_ seemed to appreciate his presence, Percy thought.

"Can I leave now?" he asked. His roommates were bound to have noticed his absence by now and he really had no idea what he was going to tell them. Though unlikely, he hoped they were already asleep: it would give him more time to cook up some sort of explanation.

Firenze glanced at Magorian before answering. "Yes. I'll take you to the edge of the forest. We don't want you to get lost – not all those who live here are as friendly as us."

His definition of 'help' obviously wasn't the only one that needed revising, Percy thought.

He sighed. He was still slightly sour over Firenze's apparent complacency, but he wasn't going to turn down the offer. If he went alone, he probably wouldn't find his way back to Hogwarts until winter break.

"Well, let's go, then," he told Firenze, "no offence, but I've got enough of this place to last me a while."

/

/

They stumbled out of the portrait hole like some sort of clumsy, six-legged creature, feet tangling and sharp elbows digging into sides.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, far too loudly for Harry's tastes. He gripped the edges of the Invisibility Cloak, pulling it more securely around them. "It's getting tight under here, isn't it? And kind of stifling, too." He sniffed and a curious expression crossed his face. "Which one of you smells like rhubarb pie?"

Harry felt Hermione stiffen against his side. "Do you ever think of anything _but_ food, Ronald?"

"Guys, please. Now is not the time," Harry said, guiding them past the portrait of a young witch strolling along the beach. She turned to stare wide-eyed out of her frame as they shuffled by and then ran into the neighbouring painting, whispering excitedly.

 _Great_ , thought Harry. In less than an hour, the whole floor would know she had heard something invisible traipse about. He guessed they had been lucky enough to sneak out of the Common Room with Percy none the wiser (that boy had definitely inherited his mother's bat ears) – it couldn't last forever.

"Not my fault she uses rhubarb shampoo," Ron mumbled moodily as they slowly descended the stairs.

Harry resisted the urge to stomp on his foot, but only because he knew it would cause even more ruckus.

Hermione wasn't as considerate: she leaned over Harry and jabbed Ron in the ribs. " _It's not rhubarb!_ " she hissed.

"Guys," Harry said again, a pleading note entering his voice, "Can't you –?"

A soft meow interrupted him.

They froze as one.

Right in front of them, having just turned the corner, was Mrs Norris. Her yellow eyes glinted menacingly in the darkness as she stared at them with uncanny precision, her mangy tail swaying softly from side to side. For the first time since he had received it, Harry felt his father's Cloak was far too much of a flimsy cover.

But, of course, it didn't let him down.

Mrs Norris purred loudly one last time and then went back the way she had come, either looking for other rule-breaking students or for her master.

Harry drew a sigh of relief.

"That was close," Ron whispered, blissfully quiet, "Let's go before she comes back with Filch."

They reached the first floor with no further incident – though Ron almost knocked over an ornamental vase just outside the tapestry that hid the secret passage they had used as a shortcut – but they were forced to stop again on top of the marble staircase, the entrance door so close Harry considered making a run for it.

Two distinct voices moved closer and closer, coming from the direction of the Great Hall, and Harry's stomach plummeted – they sounded awfully familiar.

"– someone inside the school," said a slimy voice Harry had learned to despise in the years since he had started Hogwarts. He cringed: of all the people to meet while sneaking around, Snape was probably the worst. "As I already told the Headmaster –"

"I'm well aware of what you told Albus, Severus," came McGonagall's trademark stern tone. Hermione whimpered loudly. "My answer is no different from his and I ask you to put a stop to this nonsense."

The two rounded the corner.

Despite the danger, Harry couldn't help but smile gleefully when he saw Snape's sour expression. Whatever the two were discussing, it was obvious he didn't like McGonagall's response; it was just as obvious that he knew he couldn't change her mind.

"I'm simply worried, that is all," Snape said, not quite managing to keep the anger out of his tone, "We all know how…danger-prone Potter is. It would be terrible if something were to happen to him –" there was a glint in his dark eyes that belied his words and Harry almost snorted: oh, yeah, he could see how broken-hearted Snape would be if Black got his hands on him, "– and all because certain… _unsafe individuals_ were allowed near him and his classmates."

Harry didn't think he had ever seen McGonagall's lips so tight. "How glad I am to see you worry about Mr Potter's wellbeing," she said, voice shaking with fury, "I was under the impression you didn't much care about the boy." Snape spluttered indignantly, but McGonagall didn't give him the time to compose an adequate retort. "But there is something we happen to agree on, Severus: some people shouldn't be allowed near children."

Snape froze with a foot on the first step. McGonagall came to a stop, too, and turned around to stare at him imperiously.

Harry had often witnessed McGonagall's anger – had even been the cause of it a few times – but this sort of cold fury was new and far more terrifying. If it had been anyone else but Snape at the receiving end of it, he would've felt sorry for them.

"But while you would suspect and punish someone for something they have no control over," she went on, her voice so close to a hiss Harry wouldn't have been surprised if she had slipped into parseltongue, "I only care about a person's choices." She resumed walking, passing just a few centimetres from their hiding spot. Harry, Ron and Hermione flattened themselves against the wall, holding their breath. "And talking about choices, Severus – should we bring your own to everyone's attention and see who they'd suspect of helping Black?"

Hermione gasped.

Fortunately, Snape chose that moment to stomp up the stairs, pale and tight-lipped. "My past choices are not the issue here. The Headmaster knows why I'd never help that – _beast_!"

He was so furious he was spitting. Harry didn't think he had ever seen him in such a state, which was saying something. He wasn't embarrassed to admit he'd be worried of getting cursed in McGonagall's place.

McGonagall, however, didn't back down in the face of his anger. Harry felt a fierce rush of pride for his Head of House. "Just as he knows why no one else in this school would. Respect goes both ways, Severus: you can't demand it without first _showing_ it." She straightened her tartan cloak around herself, looking impressive and dignified. "This is the sort of conversation I'd expect to have with a second year, not with an adult man."

Snape flushed and his face seemed to swell. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but the words seemed to be stuck.

Harry would've laughed if he didn't know they'd get caught. Witnessing McGonagall chewing out Snape was the best thing that had happened to him in _months_. He wished he had Colin's camera to record the moment.

"Now, let's finish our rounds. I want to go to sleep sometime tonight."

She marched along the corridor, the _tap-tap_ of her footsteps echoing against the walls. Snape stalked after her, sulking but silent.

The two disappeared behind another corner.

Harry, Ron and Hermione waited for a few moments to make sure they wouldn't be coming back and then inched away from their hiding spot.

"I think I'm in love," Ron whispered, a dreamy smile on his face.

"Who do you think they were talking about?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Snape mentioned someone inside the school. I don't think he was talking about Flitwick or Sprout and there is only one new member of the staff."

Ron looked sceptical. "Lupin?"

"It makes sense," Hermione admitted, "The question is – why? What reason does Snape have to suspect him? Lupin doesn't seem the type to do something like that."

It went without saying, Harry thought, that neither had Lockhart or Quirrel, though for different reasons.

"Everybody knows how badly Snape wants Lupin's position," he said, "maybe that's enough for him."

Hermione shook her head. "You heard McGonagall: it's about something Lupin – _if_ he was the one they were talking about – has 'no control over'." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what that is…"

"Does it matter?" said Ron impatiently. "Let's find Percy. I want to get back to the Common Room before dawn."

"Ron's right," Hermione said, "I don't want to stay out more than necessary."

They walked down the stairs, careful not to step on the Cloak.

The landing was empty and so was the corridor from where McGonagall and Snape had come. The doors to the Great Hall were closed.

"You don't think he's inside, do you?" Ron asked, eyeing the doors speculatively.

Hermione shook her head. "The professors wouldn't have closed the doors with him inside and I don't think he would've been able to open them on his own from the outside."

"What about…" Harry frowned and narrowed his eyes at the window on the other side of the corridor. He swiftly marched up to it, pulling a protesting Hermione and a confused Ron along.

Just as he had thought, there was a small figure climbing the slope, aiming straight for the entrance doors. Even through the stained glass and despite the feeble light offered by the crescent moon, Harry easily recognized the windswept hair and swift stride.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione hissed, "What is he doing out there?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry said, "Let's get him inside and under the Cloak before someone sees him. You can question him later."

He ignored her muttered _'Oh, I will'_ and pushed the door open just enough to allow a person to slip through.

Percy's bewildered and slightly suspicious face appeared a few moments later. He glanced inside, looking unsure.

"It's us," Harry whispered, silently enjoying the surprise and then the astonishment that spread across his cousin's face, "Don't ask anything," he added quickly when Percy opened his mouth, "Just come inside and under the Cloak."

" _What_ Cloak?" he asked, ignoring Harry's order.

"Oh, stop wasting time!" Hermione harrumphed. Percy leapt back. "Yes, we're here, too. Come on!" she thrust a hand out from under the Cloak and grabbed Percy by the wrist.

Percy stared open-mouthed at the disembodied hand and offered no resistance when Hermione tugged him beneath the Cloak.

He visibly shivered as he walked under the liquid-like cloth, as one might do when touched by a ghost.

"Hey, mate. You okay?" Ron asked.

Percy had gone pale and Harry wondered if perhaps the shock of seeing them appear out of thin air hadn't been too much for the other boy.

"Don't worry," he said softly, pulling him between himself and Ron so that they were all covered, "I know it's unexpected, but you'll get used to it."

"Umh?" Percy's wide eyes took him in. "Oh, sure, don't worry. I was just…" his knuckles tentatively brushed against the Cloak and the same strange expression as before flitted across his face: it was a mix between gobsmacked and horrified. "Surprised." His voice came out in a breathless whisper.

Harry caught Hermione's eye, frowning.

"I'll explain everything to you later," he promised, " _after_ you tell us where you've been."

Percy's head snapped around. The hand that had still been stroking the Cloak fell back to his side. "Oh. Do I have to?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" Percy scratched the back of his neck, sighing. "You can start talking while we go back to the Common Room," he added, pushing the door closed.

Percy groaned. "If you insist."

Harry could tell from his put out expression that he wasn't going to like it. Percy's next word proved him right.

"How come the centaurs who live in the Forbidden Forest know you?"

/

/

Sirius watched as Hogwarts' doors closed as they had opened: on their own.

Of course, he of all people knew that, despite the magic that saturated the very air around the school, its doors did not usually move without either human interference or a very good reason.

No one had been on the threshold as far as he could see, but the dark haired boy he had followed out of the Forbidden Forest had disappeared into thin air right in front of his eyes and there weren't many things that allowed a person, even a wizard, to do that.

He knew one of those things very well.

He wondered, not for the first time, whether James' Invisibility Cloak had found its way to Harry, after all. Magical artefacts, especially family heirlooms as prized as that Cloak had been, had a knack for being exactly where they were needed.

Sirius would ask his godson, if he ever got the chance.

With one last longing glance at the school, he limped back into the forest.

It was out of the way and most people avoided it like the plague, but those were its only redeeming qualities.

It wasn't a good place to hide.

He had visited it at least once a week during his school days and both him and James had often boasted about meeting the most dangerous beasts the forest housed, but the thought of crossing paths with one of them now, alone and mostly helpless, was enough to make him feel sick to the stomach.

It wouldn't do to end up as some slobbery animal's dinner before he could expose the treacherous rodent for what he was.

Animals weren't his only, or most pressing, worry. Though it was only autumn, the air was bitingly cold and Sirius knew it would only get worse come winter.

If Remus hadn't been a professor at Hogwarts, he might've tried hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, but he couldn't risk it with his former friend there and on the look-out for him.

He could only hope Padfoot's thick fur would protect him from the weather.

As if that wasn't enough, there were the centaurs to deal with.

It was because of one of them that he had ventured so far out the forest. He knew of their scorn for humans and he was well aware they wouldn't help one without a good reason. When he had seen the strange couple – the blonde centaur and the black-haired boy – traversing the forest together, he had grown suspicious. Wanted or not, he couldn't let a kid get hurt just to keep himself out of the public eye, especially as he was fairly sure the boy in question was one of Harry's friends.

Sirius had seen them together on the evening he had arrived at Hogwarts, the only other time he had allowed himself the pleasure of leaving the relative safety of the forest to see his old school.

Catching a glimpse of Harry had been an added bonus – one that had soothed the bitter feelings their first sort-of-meeting had left. Harry looked much happier and healthier now that he was at Hogwarts and he certainly seemed to have good friends.

Of course, many people would've said the same thing about his own friends and one of them had turned out to be a stinking traitor, but he wanted to believe Harry would be luckier.

As he trudged closer to his hiding spot, so deep into the forest he didn't think anyone, human or otherwise, had ever discovered it, he heard the unmistakable howl of a wolf.

Sirius barked in response, making sure the sentinel recognized him.

He had always known about the wolves that lived in the Forbidden Forest, though it was supposed to be a secret. His parents had told him before he started Hogwarts in the hopes of discouraging him from visiting the forest, but also in what later turned out to be a last-ditch attempt at instilling in him that hate for 'half-breeds' that was so common in his wretched family.

Sirius was proud to say it had backfired spectacularly.

As the legend went, these particular wolves were the result of a union between two transformed werewolves, something that had happened only twice in wizarding history.

Albus Dumbledore, always the champion of lost causes, had brought them into the forest when they were still cubs, hoping they would grow and thrive far away from humans.

And grow they had, Sirius thought as the sentinel appeared.

It was twice as big as a normal wolf and twice as intelligent. In his grey eyes, there was that spark of awareness that other animals lacked, but that was common in human beings.

Some days, he thought they might actually be _more_ intelligent than humans. After all, they had known he was innocent as soon as they had met, unlike his friends…

Not that he was bitter or anything.

He stepped past the imperturbable wolf and over a fallen branch, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg.

The rest of the pack wasn't far. Some paced by the edges of their territory, grey shadows in the night; the younger members ran in circles, playfully snapping at each-others; and a few slept under an oak.

The oak was the heart of their home.

It hid the entrance to their den quite well. It was entirely plain: not taller or smaller than the surrounding trees, not particularly old nor young. If anyone ever stumbled upon this place, they wouldn't spare it a second glance. By now, though, Sirius would be able to find it with his eyes closed, simply by following the pungent scent of wet dog and old blood.

Under a section of un-earthed roots, half hidden by small branches and leaves, was the den itself. It was a large hole and inside it lived their newborn pups.

Normally, no one outside the pack was allowed to go near it, but the wolves seemed to have made an exception for Sirius' newest ally.

The ginger cat crouched over the opening in the ground, staring curiously inside, his bushy tail twitching every now and then.

Sirius sighed – or at least he made a sound as close to a sigh as he could while he was a dog.

No matter how intelligent or evolved, these magical wolves still shared the common wolf's propensity of giving birth hidden deep into the earth. That meant the pack never travelled far from the den and that Sirius was stuck there too if he wanted to be safe, miles away from Hogwarts and his godson. It also meant he had to rely on a _cat_ 's help to catch the man that had killed his best friend and his wife, ruining both his life and Harry's.

He barked softly.

The cat's tail stilled and he spun around nimbly. He purred loudly when he saw Sirius, slinking closer.

To Sirius' undying shame, his dog-like mind thought it would be a good idea to start wagging his own tail. Pathetic.

He shuffled to a spot a bit removed from the pack and laid down with a soft whine. The cat joined him a few seconds later – he leaped onto Sirius' back, his padded feet sinking into his fur, and rubbed his head against him in welcome.

Just a few days ago, Sirius would've shrugged him off, but now he found he didn't mind quite as much.

They gazed contemplatively at the wolves and Sirius felt at peace, if only just for a moment.

Yeah, he was further away from Harry than he'd have liked, but he was still close enough to know when something went wrong and safe enough to plan without worries.

Most importantly, he had an ally who could move undisturbed inside the school; an ally no one would ever suspect of.

Peter wouldn't know what hit him.

/


End file.
